Insecure
by qfd
Summary: Sidney Crosby is not exactly what you call a ladies man and his teammates make sure he never forgets his lack of game off the ice but once, what seems like a long time ago now, there was a girl and everything had been almost perfect. The question is, can lightening really strike twice?
1. Chapter 1

_it seems like quite a while since I did a Sid fic and I've been missing the boy  
_

_So you're afraid, what about me?_

Dare to claim that you can't breathe  
Hold my hand or I'll take yours  
Don't let go cause how I feel  
Is what you've made me

_Though I'm hanging on a sign, I'm insecure  
You got me walking on a line, still I need you more  
And all the things I feel I hold 'em back from you  
And all the dreams I dream I'm sure they'll hold no truth  
I'm insecure_

_I realize that it's me being so cold  
Trapped in a box where my heart's been for so long  
I realize that it's me being insecure  
Feel I'm waiting on a sign, I'm insecure_

(lyrics from Insecure Delilah  /VTaGqlWxEP4)

**Chapter 1**

His father paced like a caged bear. Scratch that, Sid thought as Troy shot the still closed door of his top sponsor's office a grim look; his father paced like a caged bear who'd been poked through the bars too many times and was ready to rip someone's head clean off.

"Maybe you should wait in the car dad," Sid suggested softly, glancing sideways at the receptionist who, thankfully, did not look up from the letters she was addressing by hand. Troy paused, aimed an unhappy look at his son that torpedoed the idea without having to say a word and then went back to pacing.

"He'll be fine." Pat, Sidney's agent, who had been texting furiously ever since he'd picked them up at the airport, didn't seem concerned about the way his young client's father was wearing out a path in the carpet outside the office of one of the top execs at Reebok. He also didn't seem anxious about the fact that they'd been called in to meet with Sidney's top sponsor in the middle of the summer when the only concern his sponsor's should be having was that he was working out and getting ready for the season.

"I wish I had your faith," Sid said quietly and went back to drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, his version of pacing. He knew why he was here; the head injuries he'd sustained in the previous two seasons along with the disastrous end to this last season had _him_ worried so he didn't blame the companies who counted on his helping to sell their product for being concerned.

"Gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting." Sid looked up to find the door to the executive suite open and Reebok's vice president Len Rhodes smiling warmly out at them. He felt the tension that had been building between his shoulder blades ease. Len probably wouldn't be smiling like that if he was about to fire them. "Conference call," Len explained jovially as he patted Sid on the back and led them into his office. "Y'know, football season," he added, with a meaningful look towards the Edmonton Eskimos pennant on the wall.

"Yes it must be quite a task managing both," Pat said brightly as he held his hand out towards Len who took it in both of his and beamed at all of them.

"I do my best. Now, can I get any of you anything? Coffee? Tea? Gatorade?" he added with a wink towards Sid who forced a laugh and shook his head.

"Yeah, uh, I'm fine, thanks," he muttered and did his best to smile at the overused joke. Len, who'd moved behind the big chrome and glass desk reached for what looked like a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a small glass. Sid raised an eyebrow at Pat who shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"So, Len, what can we help you with? A new marketing scheme? New skates?" Pat asked, sliding his thumb discretely over the face of his phone to open the voice recording app. No one took notes anymore, not since the iPhone came out.

"Yeah, something like that," Len grinned and then frowned down at his desk as if he'd expected something to have magically appeared in front of him. Sid looked across the expanse of the desk and wondered what, considering there wasn't much on the desk aside from a couple of family photos and what looked to be a well thumbed copy of the most recent Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. "We've been tossing around the idea of an interactive site following your training regimen. We loved how well that 'In the Room'series went and we thought we'd take advantage of that and the interest in your condition young man," he added with a wary smile that made it clear that he and maybe all of the executives at Reebok were still concerned about his injuries and what effect another season of his not playing would have on their sales.

"Sounds great," Pat smiled and looked genuinely unconcerned. Troy was frowning but was so far keeping quiet, for which Sidney was grateful. "Sid's on a full training schedule now so when do we start?"

"That's just it. I had some resumes we were going over around here somewhere, art directors or film school kids or something," Len mumbled, picking up files on his desk and peering into them and then putting them down again. Sid looked at a pile of slim manila folders on the corner of the Vice President's desk and thought those looked more likely to be what he was looking for but just as he reached to point them out, so did the man behind the desk and the folders all ended up on the floor at Sid's feet.

"Sorry," he mumbled and reached for the envelope nearest to him. He stared at the name on it and suddenly he was seventeen years old again.

* * *

_The crowd laughed at just about everything that Johnny Knoxville and Seann William Scott were saying and doing on the huge outdoor screen that was only set up in the small town during the warm, clear summer months. For himself, Sid couldn't concentrate on the, what he was sure were hilarious antics of two of the funniest actors in the entire world. He was far too distracted by the sharp tang of green apple shampoo and the more floral undertones of the perfume coming from the tanned skin of the young woman sitting on the blanket next to him. _

_Phil, short for Philomena after her grandmother, was literally the girl next door, or at least she had been since the start of the summer when she'd arrived with her bags packed to start at Dalhousie in the fall. She wanting to 'acclimatize to Maritime life' or so she called it and spend some time with her ageing grandparents . He'd seen her the minute the taxi had pulled up at the end of the driveway next door. She'd waved a warm hello while he'd stood there his parents' garbage cans in each hand and just stared. She'd looked like all the things he was about to lose, freedom, independence, lightheartedness and fun all wrapped in a dark haired, long limbed beauty with a carefree smile and he'd been working up the courage to ask her out all summer. _

_Now there were only a couple of nights left before she would go to university and he would go to Pittsburgh and they'd probably never see each other again. Her fingers were splayed on the blanket just centimeters from his and what he wanted, almost more than anything aside from scoring in his first NHL game and winning the Stanley Cup, was to hold her hand. _

_Over the warm summer months they'd slowly formed a friendship, or rather she'd forced him into it with her free spirit and naturally easy going ways which would not accept that the awkward boy next door didn't know how to speak to girls. They'd hung out a little. She always seemed to be there when he got back from his morning run, waiting for him to take her sight- seeing, claiming her grandparents were too old and boring. _

_He'd taken her to his favorite places, like the Fort where they'd stood side by side when the canon was shot off. He'd hoped she'd throw her arms around his neck or at least grab his hand but it hadn't worked. He'd even sat through Saw 2 in hopes that she'd need his comfort. Instead she'd laughed at all the parts that made him squirm with discomfort, like she was laughing now. It was a warm, throaty sound and it transformed her face entirely, lighting it from within. _

_There would be girls, Mario had promised line ups of girls when he got to Pittsburgh. He told himself he didn't need to kiss this girl but when he looked at her now, with her loose peasant blouse falling over her tanned shoulder, he knew he had to. _

_He hooked his pinky over hers'. His heart hammered in his chest like he was standing on the centre line, third man in a shoot-out. She looked down at their hands and then up at him and smiled. It had been one thing to decide he was going to kiss her. It was something else entirely to actually do it. _

_He hadn't had a lot of time for girls so far in his short life. Not between morning practice, then school, then afternoon practice, homework and chores. Not to mention all of those weekends spent playing shinny with his friends from dawn until dusk, at the end of the cul-de-sac in the summer or down at the frozen pond on those short, blustery winter days. Sure there'd been that girl at Shatttuck's who'd introduced him to seven minutes in heaven and then there'd been that girl at Rimouski who'd managed to extend those seven minutes into a couple of hours of dry humping frustration. _

_He felt like he knew what he was doing with skates on but when they were off…._

"_Umm, Phil…I was wondering, if you wanted, um…," he felt himself blushing and hated it. Sid tore his gaze away from her pretty profile and stared furiously ahead until he felt the light brush of her fingertips along his jaw followed by the soft press of her even softer lips against the corner of his mouth. He turned to see her grinning at him in that easy, laid back way of hers'. _

"_I thought you were never going to ask," she whispered and then her lips captured his in a long, soft kiss that made him forget about all of the other girls that had ever come before. _

* * *

That night had been a sweet if slightly silly memory that Phil had put away with other childish things when she'd moved into dorms at Dalhousie and went about growing up into the woman who now sat with her resume and portfolio across her knees. Of course at times it was hard to forget, like when he lifted the Stanley Cup for the first time and she'd cried, or during the Olympics when she and every other Canadian with a heartbeat had celebrated right along with him and the rest of the gold medal team. And then there were times like now, as she found herself looking up at a larger than life picture of him in his body skimming athletic under gear.

He had certainly put on a lot more muscle mass and the confidence in his face as he stared scornfully back at the camera looked nothing like the terrified teenager that hadn't known what to do when, after a couple hours making out on her grandparent's basement couch, she'd pulled her top off. That night seemed so long ago now. Philomena slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as she recalled the way his face had turned so many shades of red that she'd come to the realization that she was probably about to become Sid the Kid's 'first'.

Except she didn't and that was her one regret about that summer. She'd been pretty sure he'd wanted to do it, but after hours of making out that had left her lips raw and chapped and with a headache from lack of blood to the brain, he'd shyly admitted he had no protection and left. She'd offered to give him a hand-job but he had backed out of her grandmother's basement so fast it was like she'd pointed a gun at him, like he couldn't wait to get away.

Phil shook her head at the memory of that obviously anxious and unconfident young man and the free spirited girl she'd been and thought that the tables had probably turned in the interim. She'd learned not to be so free with her favors but she was willing to bet her first pay check that the now world famous forward of the Pittsburgh Penguins had a line of girls outside his bedroom door every night.

"You probably don't blush when you see boobies now, huh sport?" she asked the oversize portrait on the wall. The portrait stared impassively back at her and she smirked at herself and went back to watching the office door, behind which she hoped her first boss was going over her credentials.

"Miss Gallo?" Phil spun in her chair and found Michael Rossi, general manager of Reebok Canada walking towards his office with a cup of coffee in each hand. "I hope you like a latté. I wasn't sure what to get you."

"A latté is fine," she smiled brightly as she got to her feet. She slipped her portfolio under her arm as he handed her a steaming cup frothy coffee.

"Well I'm glad you're here Miss Gallo but I wish you'd told me sooner about your connections," he added. Phil followed him through the large double doors and into a plush office filled with sport memorabilia, one of which was a full size cardboard cutout of Sid in shorts and a t-shirt and those darn Zig-Tech shoes.

"I'm sorry Mr. Rossi, I'm not sure I follow?" She sat down in one of the black wing backed chairs across from his wide, cluttered desk, placed her portfolio on the other chair and held onto the hot mug of coffee. "What connections would those be?" Mr. Rossi stood on the other side of his desk and frowned at her as if he thought that she was intentionally being obtuse so she stared right back, being sure he could see that she _was_ honestly confused.

"Well Sid spoke very highly of you and if I'd known that you were interested in the position in Pittsburgh I would have had you interview with one of my colleagues right away." Phil stared at the man behind the desk and did her best not show exactly how surprised she was.

"I…I didn't put him down in my references," she said slowly, telling herself it wasn't lying if she just went along with it. A moment ago she'd been pleased at being interviewed at one of the biggest sports equipment manufacture's and hopeful of getting a job with Reebok's marketing department. In all honesty she'd thought that an interview with the General Manager of the entire Canadian division had been overkill. Now things were becoming crystal clear and her heart began to pound.

"Which is one of the reasons your submission was even considered along with those who had, well let's just say _far_ more experience," he explained while giving her the sort of once over that men did when they thought that you'd slept your way into a job. Philomena lifted up her chin and stared defiantly back at the GM.

"I think you'll find my work is cutting edge and my references are exemplary." She didn't know what the job was but now she didn't care; she just wanted it because of the disparagement she could see in his eyes.

"Well we're willing to put you on a three month's trial but you'll be on a short leash," he told her firmly.

"You won't regret it," she told him and hoped to hell that she was right.

* * *

"_I'm sorry for bustin' out on you like that." Phil smirked and dug her heels into the mattress to push herself up into a sitting position. _

"_That's okay," she purred, smiling to herself as she formulated the next words that would come out of her mouth, "I've taken things in hand and I'm feeling much better already. It's you I'm worried about." She heard the groan on the other end of the line and slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle a giggle. _

"_If I leave the house this late my father will send out a search party," he admitted and from what Phil knew of his overbearing and overprotective father, she believed that was true. "You must think I'm a real loser," he added quietly. _

"_You? No one will ever think you're a loser Sidney," she told him truthfully. "You're about to become the second coming and you'll be so busy being a superstar you'll forget all about tonight and all about me," she added knowing already that he was going to vehemently disagree with her. _

" _More like you'll be so busy chasing all the senior rowers you won't have time to think about me," he told her quietly, like he meant it. She snickered at the idea._

"_Something tells me I won't ever be able to forget about you Sidney. Think of all the girls I'll be able to make jealous just by saying I made out with you." She heard him sigh and knew that he still didn't believe her. "We should make a pact. Let's always remember one another and that way, when you're a big star maybe you can help little old me out one day." She was kidding of course. She was under no delusions that, once Sid put on that Pittsburgh jerse,y he'd have time to even give her a second thought. _

"_I swear," he promised and she heard him sigh again. "So…what are you wearing, exactly?" _

"_Oh well…I had to get comfortable and it is warm in here so…," and she giggled when she heard him groan out loud. _

"_You'd better not finish that sentence," he sighed, "or I'll have to risk my father's wrath and come over there." Phil considered teasing him further but decided against it. If he wasn't ready she wasn't going to push him. Even if…._

"_I can't believe tomorrow's your last day." Everything would change for him after tomorrow. She thought, after that, he would probably never be the sweet, shy boy she knew now. _

"_You're coming to the party my mom's having right?" he asked, his tone revealing that he didn't want to spend his last hours of freedom with his parents any more than any other kid their age did. _

"_Wouldn't miss it," she promised and wondered if between tonight and tomorrow the cute boy next door with the hazel eyes and thick black hair would find the courage to finish what he'd started that night. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

There were three outfits lying across the narrow double bed of the Westin Bonaventeure hotel room and none of them, Phil thought to herself as she surveyed them, seemed exactly right.

On the one hand, it was work and work meant business clothes and the first day of work meant making a good impression and that meant a suit. Phil had two suits. One black and grey pin striped pant suit and one royal blue suit with a pencil skirt and matching jacket with a cute peplum. She looked great in both, she knew that, but they weren't really great to actually _work_ in.

What she wanted to wear was a flirty little black cocktail dress cut down to there and up to here with a pair of knee high black boots with slim heels. That outfit was hot but didn't exactly say work, except for maybe the stand on the street corner kind.

The fourth option, was the outfit she was in now; a slim fitting pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt with the cute blue jacket from her suit over top and a killer pair of black stiletto heels. She was pretty sure that, even in business casual, they would hopefully still take her seriously. If she happened to look a little sexy and caught a certain world renowned hockey player's eye, so be it.

With one last look at the mirror and with the addition of some light plum coloured lip gloss Phil grabbed her portfolio, her still camera and her purse and headed out the door.

She used the time during the taxi ride to the Toyota Sports Centre to go over her notes. She didn't know if they'd be starting today or if she would only be meeting with the training staff and getting light levels but, just in case, she wanted to be prepared. She was sure that everything she said and did would somehow make it back to Reebok headquarters and she wanted to be sure she sounded like she knew what she was doing.

Not that she didn't. Philomena was confident in her abilities and in the plan she'd come up with. She just wanted to be sure it sounded like that to them too because right now she didn't feel like the cool, laid back carefree girl she prided herself on being. This was her first big break and she did not want to screw it up or worse, disappoint and embarrass Sidney. After all, he'd been the one to stick his neck out for her, a fact which she still couldn't quite get her head around.

Nor could she silence the furiously beating wings of the butterflies in her stomach. It was one thing to hold the memories of that summer close to her heart while she thought she would never meet him again. It was something else again to know that she was suddenly going to be face to face with probably one of the most desired men in hockey, and probably in Canada. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that, apart from the fact she was nervous as hell.

So far she'd attributed the nerves to wanting to do the job well but now, as the taxi pulled up out front of the imposing arena and Phil looked up at the bright noon day sun, she wasn't so sure that her clammy hands had nothing to do with the boy with the man with the hazel eyes and the body of Greek God.

* * *

Sid was doing his best not to sweat which was the exact opposite of what the aim usually was for a workout. Normally, by the time he'd finished with the weights and the sit ups and the medicine ball he'd be so drenched in sweat it would run off of him in rivulets and he'd know he'd given it his best. Girls didn't like sweat though. He'd figured that out with the few short term relationships he'd had. They preferred him to be showered and dry before they tried to get him sweaty again.

"Okay, I never, ever make it to a hundred before you. What's up Crosby, you got a cold or somethin'?" Sid glanced over at the imposing figure of Jack Johnson and blew out a breath as if what he'd just been doing had been hard.

"I'm pacing myself. You should try it sometime," Sid replied flippantly. He tried, as discretely as he could, to see if his deodorant was still holding out as he noted a commotion in the hallway near the entrance to the gym. Up until that very moment he'd done his best not to think about that young woman he hadn't seen since he'd still just been that kid from Cole Harbour.

"Dude I don't have to pace myself, I could fuckin' bench press you and…well hello darlin'." Sid stared at the door. So did Jack, Matt, George and every other guy in the room. The gypsy girl with the flowers in her hair that he'd expected to appear had been replaced with a model off the pages of some fashion magazine.

"I think I see my future ex-wife," George Parros stroked his moustache thoughtfully as he leered at her as she talked to one of the trainers. Sid stared first at the six inch heels that were nothing like the sandals he remembered her wearing. The dark hip hugging jeans, on the other hand, were reminiscent of the flowing skirts that had, sometimes when the sun caught them from just the right angle, afforded him a view of her legs.

"You wish old man," Matt Duchene tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside just as she turned to look in their direction. Her gaze slid past the other men and landed on him and a smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth.

"Fuck off, really? Do they all fucking go for him?" He heard the Sabres goaltender grumbling behind him but he didn't react. He couldn't. He was rooted to the spot as he watched her lips move, forming the single syllable 'hi' before she turned back to Andy, his own personal trainer, and some suit he guessed was from Reebok.

"That yers?" Jack asked. Sid shook his head. She really wasn't. She might have been, at one time, but she wasn't his now. "Cool," the muscular defenseman puffed out his already impressively wide chest and grinned. Sid clenched his teeth and swallowed the warning that danced on the tip of his tongue. He had no right or claim to her.

When Andy waived him over Sid forced himself to take slow, deliberate steps and not jog across the room. He could hear the derogatory sounds the guys were making behind him but he'd been a kid the last time he let that kind of teasing bother him. What had his heart rate up now was the smile that tugged Phil's lips over teeth and made her dark eyes sparkle as she watched him.

"Hey," she said, opening her arms and wrapping him up in a hug as if it hadn't been years since they'd seen each other.

"Nice to see you," he replied more stiffly than he'd meant to and as he watched her grin faded a bit at the edges. This was work, he told himself as he drew away from her, this wasn't the time for reminiscing.

"Yeah, you too," she repeated and the sparkle went out of her eyes before she turned and smiled brilliantly at Andy. "So I hear you're up for helping with the first video?" As Sid listened to them talk about how long the shoot would take, blocking and other things he knew he should be paying attention to he couldn't help but watch her, the way she twisted her long, silken dark hair around one finger as she listened to Andy, though it was to him she kept glancing as if expecting him to jump in.

"Sound good to you Sid?" Andy turned towards him and the smirk on his face clearly let Sid know he knew his charge hadn't been paying any attention.

"Uh, yeah," he agreed quietly. Not that it mattered if he agreed or not. He'd made at least two dozen commercials in the time he'd been in the league. He knew what was expected of him. He also knew that once she'd shot this commercial he'd probably never see her again.

"This should be easy for you." She turned towards him and Sid felt his mouth go dry as her gaze intentionally travelled slowly up his body before it finally met his. "You look like you do nothing but work out, although, I'm sure that's not strictly true." He heard the wolf whistles and cat calls behind him and prayed that he wasn't going as red as he felt his face heat up. Damn, so she could still do that to him.

"Yeah it's all he does, but some of us have an actual life. You sure you don't want this in your little commercial instead?" Jack appeared at his right shoulder and Sid naturally backed away, letting his bigger, louder friend take point. Jack had the kind of swagger women seemed drawn to and had always been better at picking up girls than Sid was sure he'd ever be.

"Well, when you sell as many jerseys as Sid does, _maybe_ we can talk Johnson," she offered. The room filled with hoots and hollers and even Sid allowed himself a private grin at his muscled friend's expense. "I'm gonna do some light tests on the room and speak with the arena management and then…do you think we could grab some coffee or something?" she asked quietly while the rest of the guys continued to torment the big blonde defenseman.

"We're gonna hit a club after dinner you should come," Matt suggested before Sid could accept the offer for a quieter, more private moment. He shrugged and gave deference to Duchene's idea. She glanced at the younger, shirtless winger and then back to Sid and gave him big eyes as if she was again waiting for him to jump in and then, when he didn't, she acquiesced.

"Sure, sounds like a blast," she agreed though her tone and the frown she aimed in his direction as he continued to stand silently by made it clear she didn't really think it would be a blast at all. "So, who's taking my digits?" she added, staring expectantly and, he thought, maybe a little hopefully towards him.

"That'd be me baby," Parros drawled and Duchene shook his head.

"What do you do, keep your phone in 'stache while you're lifting weights?" the Av's young winger whined.

"You never know when a pretty girl's gonna need my number," George answered with a wink. Sid watched long enough for Phil to hand her phone to the mustachioed enforcer and then he slipped out of the weight room and headed for the changing room where he walked directly into a shower stall, t-shirt, shorts and runners still on, and turned on the cold water.

* * *

"_Hey!" Sid had slowed to a jog by the time he turned onto his own street but he nearly skidded to a full stop to look up as the new girl next door called out to him. He glanced around to be sure she had directed the greeting at him and then stopped to stretch at the end of his driveway._

"_Yeah, hey," he mumbled hesitantly back. She hopped down from her perch on her grandparent's front steps and stood at the edge of their front yard. _

"_They get up at, like, the crack of dawn," she explained, hooking her thumb towards the house which looked quiet enough to him. "My Gran does yoga or sometimes Tai Chi so I thought I'd get up with her this morning and be social. That's when I saw you leave," she continued as if he'd invited her into a conversation. He brushed at the sweat dripping from his forehead with the back of his forearm. Her gaze followed the movement and then she smiled and he felt his heart skip a beat. She had her hair back in pig tails and the way the early morning light slanted across their yards, he could count the freckles across the bridge of her nose. "So do you run every morning?" _

"_Mostly," he agreed, stretching his calves as they began to tighten. Usually by now he was heading into a hot shower that would ensure his muscles didn't cramp up. "Do you…ummm…do you run?" he asked, mostly to be polite, for the sake of conversation. She laughed; a sound as bright as the early summer sunshine. _

"_I don't like to do **bouncy** things," she smirked and Sid had to use every ounce of willpower he had not to look down at the way the heart on her t-shirt pulled across her chest, "but I saw you had some sticks and a net. Maybe the next time you're playing I can always play goal." He opened his mouth to tell her that was probably not a great idea, considering how hard his shot was but he closed it again and shrugged instead. The guys probably wouldn't want to play with a girl anyway. "So I thought maybe you could take me around the sights today, if you're not busy." _

_It wasn't that it was the first time a girl had asked him out, the girls in Rimouski had been pretty forward, but Sid just couldn't get used to the idea that girls might be interested in him despite the assurances from his father, his new agent and even Mario Lemieux that he'd be beating them off with a stick once he got to the big show. In his head he was still the slightly pudgy, rabbit toothed dorky kid that his mother affectionately called a 'late bloomer'._

"_Uh sure?" he inched towards the front door of his house. _

"_I'll be waiting right here," she grinned at him, digging he bare toes into the green grass of her Grandparents front yard. He looked down at those toes and then followed the pale expanse of bare skin up her legs until they disappeared under one of those wrinkly broomstick skirts all the girls seemed to be wearing. _

"_Okay," he mumbled and headed, at a jog, for his front door, crashing through it and ignoring his father's usual question about his run as he practically ran for the shower. _

_He had a date!_

* * *

The music was way too loud. It was that pulsating euro-techno dance beat that she hated plus the club was hot and the drinks were too strong but worse than the press of sweating strangers and the slight ache in her head from the vodka, was the fact that Sid hadn't moved off of his perch at the bar. He was watching as Jack Johnson tried to dry hump her in the middle of the dance floor, nursing the same drink he'd ordered when they'd arrived while he ignored the circling pack of scantily clad females that were watching him like he was a Calvin Klein model dipped in chocolate.

"I need to breathe," she shouted above the cacophony and wriggled free of the grip Jack's ham sized hands had on her hips and pushed him backwards, using him as a human battering ram to make her way towards a side exit that was propped open. The cool night air in the alley felt like a cold washcloth squeezed down her back and Phil closed her eyes and reveled in it until Jack did the inevitable and tried to kiss her neck. "Get off me you ape," she growled and pressed both her hands in the center of his chest to push him away. "You'd squash me like a pancake," she added as she leveled a glare in his direction. Good-naturedly he held up his hands and retreated enough to give her some space.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he smirked. She didn't argue, just wished someone else felt that way.

"So, you know him right? Does he have a like…long term girlfriend or what?" Phil examined the big defenseman's face for signs of dissemination but instead of showing signs of trying to hide something, Jack just laughed.

"Who? The Creature?" Phil frowned at the nickname. It sounded derogatory and she decided that she didn't like it. "Nah…at least I don't think so. I mean, he's not exactly big on sharing," Jack added rabbit ears around the last word and grinned like he was making a joke, "but if he does I haven't heard about it." Phil tried to find a double meaning in the big man's words but when she found none she decided he was telling the truth. "So…you two got some kinda thing going on or what?" This was the part where she knew that Sid's privacy was more important than her getting more information and she shook her head.

"I just wondered why he's just sitting there all by himself. I mean…I'm not the only one that cans see the vultures circling right?" she pointed out, trying to keep her tone light, as if she was just pointing out the obvious to a friend. Jack was already checking out a girl in a tight short skirt and a barely there metallic top. Phil didn't begrudge him. The girl was cute but she was also obviously on the prowl for a hockey player. She'd seen the same girl circling Sid and then a little while later, dancing with Matt Duchene.

"Oh, I'm surprised old stick up the ass is even here. He doesn't usually come with the boys," Jack barked like it was the funniest thing in the world. Phil felt her brow crease. She didn't like the way the Blue Jackets mid season acquisition was talking about the sensitive boy she once knew.

"Who made him come?" she asked quietly, turning her attention back into the club and remembering how she too had cajoled him into things she knew he hadn't wanted to do.

"_You_ did," Jack cackled, slapping his big hand down onto her shoulder like she was just one of the boys before he turned his attention back to the girl with the loose golden curls.

Phil squeezed her way back inside and eased her way around the crowded dance floor until she had the bar in sight. His chair was empty. A quick scan of the crowd failed to turn up any sign of his dark hair, wide shoulders or even the flock of prettily painted birds that had been circling him all night like they were playing musical chairs and his was the last chair left.

"You looking for Crosby?" Phil turned and found herself staring into the middle of a wide barrel of a chest. She looked up and up and George Parros wiggled his mustache at her.

"I wanted to try and see if he was ready to dance yet," she lied. George laughed and shook his head.

"I saw him leave, a few minutes ago when you and Johnson went outside." Philomena cursed under her breath, thanked Ducks' fighter and then tried to make her way towards the front entrance.

"You looking for Sid?" A hand shot out of a booth and grabbed her wrist. She looked down at the hand and then followed the arm up to where it attached to the slim form of the Sabre's goal tender.

"I was trying to catch him before he went," she replied hoping it didn't sound too desperate. Ryan Miller smiled as he readjusted the weight of the girl sitting on his lap.

"He said to let you know he'd see you in the morning." Phil, very carefully, forced herself to smile and nod before she turned and headed, quickly for the bar where she ordered a double rum and coke, hold the coke, and cursed under her breath.

* * *

_A barbeque with the his friends was normally a time to relax but Sid felt far from relaxed as he watched his friends take turns hitting on his new neighbor. Despite the fact that he'd spent most of the last week with her, when it came to flirting, Sid knew he didn't have what it took to outdo his buddies. He wasn't good at fake or flattery and every time he'd tried to answer her good-natured teasing with lighthearted banter of his own but it ended up coming out all wrong. _

_When he wasn't stumbling over his words he had compared her to his mother, then his little sister and that's when he'd decided that silence was better than continuing to make an ass out of himself and silence was the strategy he was currently employing while Scott, one of his best friends, was bringing her yet another cooler and Jeff was leaning on the fence and smiling down her top. _

"_Jesus, drool much?" Sid hissed at his younger sibling who grinned back at him, proud of making her usually calm and collected older brother squirm. "You do! You do like her!" Taylor exclaimed like she'd just won a prize. Sid turned his attention back to Phil and the group of his friends around her like they'd never seen a girl before. _

"_You don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled. _

"_Oh you mean Sid and Philomena sitting in a tree K-I-S-S…." Sid clamped his hand over his sister's mouth and emitted a growl from deep in his chest. _

"_Don't you have someone else you can go annoy the shit out of?" he snarled at her._

"_But I've only got you to annoy for another few weeks," she flounced the moment he let her go. He glared at Taylor, who flipped her hair over one shoulder and then skipped away across the yard. He stared after her, coming up with any number of ways to get his revenge. _

"_Your sister?" He felt his heart leap into his throat and didn't turn around until he'd erased the look of hoe and shock off of his face. _

"_She's a pest," he mumbled. _

"_You say that now but in a couple of years you'll be beating those buddies of yours away from the front door," Phil teased him quietly. Sid glanced at his friends. _

"_I think I'll leave that to my dad," he replied with a furtive glance towards where his father was, as usual, holding court, no doubt telling the same stories about his close encounter with the big time and, of course, how proud he was of his son. _

"_Yikes, he does look kind of imposing doesn't he?" Phil agreed and elbowed Sid in the ribs. It was the most physical contact they'd had and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. He turned and faced her and for one, brief shining moment as she looked expectantly up at her he thought that he was going to kiss her and his a dozen butterflies began to beat their wings in his chest and stomach. The last light of the day caught her hair and made it shine like polished walnut. He stared at her full lips and watched them part, watched her tongue sweep over her full bottom lip and wondered if he'd ever be able to breathe again._

"_So, son, are you going to introduce us to your little friend?" He felt his stomach drop as his father's hand came heavily to rest on his shoulder and he knew the moment was gone. He wanted to yell at his father, ask him if he had to horn in on absolutely everything that he did but instead he rolled his shoulder, forcing his father's hand to fall away._

"_No," he grumbled and spun on his heel and headed towards the safety of the company of his friends, leaving Phil to introduce herself if that's what she wanted to do._


	3. Chapter 3

****_I blame Bettman for the tardiness of the posting of this chapter, him and his toadies for all this cancellation of the season talk...I'm having nightmares, tossing and turning...nasty little troll of a man..._

**Chapter 3**

He'd had his chance. That had been her thought as she'd picked out a pair of comfortable plain black leggings and a loose fitting grey sweater. She'd worn her best casual sexy business attire and then pranced around in a barely there little black dress and he'd given absolutely zero reaction to either outfit. She'd considered, very briefly, following Jack back to his hotel just so she could knock on Crosby's door and give him a piece of her mind but had given up on that idea when she'd watched Jack leave with not one, but two pretty girls sometime just before midnight.

It wasn't that she'd honestly expected him to fall all over her, stumbling and drooling like he had when they'd been teenagers in heat but on the other hand, what she hadn't expected was for him to almost entirely ignore her as if they'd never even been friends. That, she'd decided, actually hurt which was why she was ignoring him as the crew set up the cameras and light equipment.

"Don't you think there should be more light?" Phil rolled her eyes which made the nearest gaffer laugh.

"What are you, the fucking art director now?" she snorted, keeping her eyes down and pretending to read a light meter. She wanted grungy, dim and gritty. She didn't want to glamorize his work out. She wasn't sure that was what the Reebok execs would be expecting but then she knew something that a lot of those suits in that business tower back in T.O. didn't seem to. Sid was sex. That's what sold his work out gear. Guys didn't buy this stuff. Women bought it for their boyfriends because they wanted them to look like Sidney Crosby.

She heard his personal trainer snicker and didn't have to look up to know that Sid would be glaring darkly at her. Phil knew that glare. Not that she'd been the focus of that particular brand of frustration, or at least not often, but she knew the feel of it as the usual buzz and bustle of a film set suddenly slowed and quieted down to a near whisper. Phil cursed quietly. She'd been on a dozen sets for television shows and even lesser known stars could silence a room with a sulky look.

Swallowing what remained of her pride she took her light meter over to where Sid was standing, ready to be restrained by something that looked like a medieval torture device, and held it up near his chin. "You will behave like a professional and not some kind of spoiled child because for some reason you told them to give me this job so the only person that's going to come out looking stupid if this all goes wrong, is you." Only as she said the last words did Phil raise her gaze to meet his and she made sure that all of her displeasure with him filled her gaze. His eyes got round and then he ducked his head to the side.

"I'm sorry." There could have been a lot of meaning to those words but she didn't allow herself to fill them with anything but that he would behave for as long as it took to get this done.

She held his gaze for only a moment, long enough to get her meaning across but not long enough to allow her gaze to slip to his full, sensuous mouth. She turned and headed back towards the main camera. The gaffer moved aside and only then did she allow herself to take a longer look at the way his dark t-shirt clung to his wide, round muscular shoulders and the way his stocky legs emerged from shorts she wished were at least two sizes smaller.

* * *

She had declared that Andy didn't look like big enough to really hold Sid back, although he knew that his trainer easily could. Phil had chosen, instead, some meat head ex military guy from the gym to pull back on the harness. Sid felt his ribs constrict and he blew out breath as his body reached its limit. It probably made for good video but it didn't _feel_ good and Sid couldn't help but shoot an unhappy look towards Phil who was already watching the playback on a lap top.

Watching her in a hardly there black tank dress that she'd worn to the club had been like being given a thousand paper cuts and then being dipped in a vat of lemon juice but the leggings and loose fitting soft grey sweater she was wearing now was not a big improvement. The sweater fell off of her shoulder and, as Sid paced like a hungry tiger in the zoo at feeding time, he had to fight the urge to walk over to her and press his lips to that pale skin.

Did she think this was easy, he wondered to himself as she turned to smile at one of the camera men. Certainly years had passed but for him the memory of that one night, that frustrating night, had not faded with time. For her it obviously had, he decided as she laid a hand on that camera operator's arm and laughed, setting her pony tail swinging.

"That was great Sid," she called towards him, her easy going grin fading at the edges as she turned towards him. "Great intensity. Let's see if we can keep that up."

He wanted to laugh and turned away to wipe his forehead just to hide the smirk that he felt tug at the corners of his mouth. It might look like intensity to her but really it was anger, mostly at himself, for bringing her back into his life and reminding him of the Sid who had been that pathetic.

"How about this?" Sid felt her nudge his side and looked down at the skipping rope she was holding out towards him. He shrugged and reached to take it from her hand. She didn't withdraw hers' immediately and their fingers brushed. He felt an immediate shock, right through his arm and directly into his the centre of his chest.

"I guess," he muttered and snatched the coiled rope from her hand. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well if you don't use one in your regimen…," she began and he thought, for just a moment she looked scared of him. He kind of liked the way her eyes got a little wider and her cheeks turned pink.

"He _does_," Andy snapped from somewhere behind him. Sid whirled to face his trainer who was looking at him like he'd just caught him eating a banana split.

"G-good," Phil mumbled and then turned to head back towards the camera, "I'd hate to ask his highness to do anything that would be beneath him." Sid stared at her retreating back and growled.

"Jesus, if you want her I'm pretty sure you could have her," Andy whispered to him as Sid swung the skipping rope around like it was a pair of nun-chucks.

"Yeah, you'd _think_," Sid grumbled and then turned to stare directly into the camera.

* * *

"_Jeeeezuzzzz_." Phil stared down the viewfinder and slowly licked her lips. She'd asked for a close up on the gold chain around his neck but that wasn't what she was focusing on. She was staring at his thick, muscular neck.

"Oh yeah sistah he is one _fine_ specimen," Clark, one of the gaffers whispered into her ear. Phil batted him away and laughed. "What?" Clark minced and then grinned when she shot him a dirty look. "You know you wouldn't toss him out of bed for eating crackers."

"Can you try and be just a _little_ professional?" she hissed. Was everyone being an immature little bitch today she wondered even as she counted herself in that number? Even if Sid had turned into a callous prick in the last few years , nature and hard work had done other things that, even if they didn't entirely make up for his behavior, certainly made it hard to stay mad at him.

"Sister, I'm not the one drooling all over the lens of the camera," Clark reminded her. Phil brushed the palms of her hands down her thighs and dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Is it _that_ obvious?" she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Probably only to me," he promised, tugging playfully on her pony tail, "and besides, he's probably used to having to step over puddles of drool." She aimed a look at him that she hoped expressed how unhelpful he was being. Clark just laughed.

Phil stood returned to her position behind the camera and nodded towards Sid. Grudgingly he began to slowly step over the rope. Phil clenched her teeth. Watching his wrists work that rope, faster and faster, was almost as good as eating a chocolate éclair…or watching porn.

"You should have him do the harder stuff." Phil turned to find Sid's trainer, Andy, standing beside her, leisurely watching his client, his arms across his chest.

"Uh…hard stuff?" Visions of Sid slamming back shots of whiskey ran through her head, despite the fact she was certain that wasn't what his trainer meant.

"Y'know, weights, medicine ball, hammer, that stuff." Phil turned her attention back to Sid, who by now was working up a sweat. The sheen of it on his skin made him nearly glow under the lights. The thought of those arms working a barbell….

"Yeah, we should totally do that," she muttered and signaled for Sid to stop skipping.

* * *

"_Shh, shhhh…that ad's on again." The room fell silent as every pair of eyes in the room turned towards the Television. Normally during commercials, especially in between periods, snacks would be retrieved from the kitchen and bathroom breaks would be taken but lately the advertisements were as anticipated as the games. _

"_Oh god, when he sucks on that Gatorade pack…mmmm." Phil glanced over at her friend Susan and raised an eyebrow. "What? That doesn't make you think of him sucking on your ti…." Phil held her hand up for silence and winced. It was bad enough the thoughts she had in her own head without her friends adding their own x-rated versions. It wasn't that she never allowed her thoughts to run in that particular direction, just not in mixed company. _

"_Does it?" She didn't want to look at Grant but he prodded her, poking her playfully in the arm until she did. Her friends had pointed out that he looked, kind of, like Sid when they'd started flirting in the lineup every morning at Starbucks but it was one thing to point that out, among friends, and quite another to let him know that was probably the main reason she'd noticed him in the first place. _

"_He's cute," she shrugged. That was as much information as she would give. Some of her closest friends didn't even know about that summer. It had felt too much like bragging the few times she'd told that particular story. Besides that, Sue had never ever let up on it; like right then when she decided to see if she could make Phil squirm._

"_Just think of all the moves he can make," her friend added with a smirk, "all that stamina?" Phil rolled her eyes and gratefully returned her attention to the screen as Coach's Corner started. Everyone fell silent, waiting to hear what controversial thing Grapes would say next. Philomena didn't hear any of it. Images from that summer had crept into the corner of her consciousness and just as always happened when she recalled the way that summer end, she felt sad. Not for that boy who'd chickened out at that last minute, but for herself. It was kind of like that Avril Lavigne song, Skater Boy but instead of rocking on MTV Sid kept popping up in the front window of Sportchek, in magazine ads for Reebok and even on her Tim Horton's coffee card. _

"_You okay?" Grant whispered, wrapping one of his big arms around her waist and pulling her back against him where he sat on the corner of the couch. _

"_Yeah," she smiled at him and did the same thing she did every time she thought of that summer; pushed those memories back into their bejeweled box of precious memories and tried to forget, for now. _

* * *

The crew was packing up, cameras going back into boxes, lights being taken down, cables being coiled and in the middle of it all she was standing there looking a little lost. Sid upended an entire bottle of cold water over his head and then gave his head a shake, not to get rid of the water so much as to try to get rid of the emotions that were fogging up his brain.

He could get rid of her or at least the _idea_ of her being in Pittsburgh when he got back there at the end of the summer, just by being an ass now, by letting the execs at Reebok know that she'd done an awful job. The truth was he didn't really know what kind of job she was doing, except that Andy said that what he'd seen had looked 'gnarly'.

And then there was the fact that he wanted to see her again but away from all of these people and especially away from the other players. He'd seen Parros and Johnson in the doorway during the shoot, watching her, not him. If they ever found out that he'd chickened out on the only opportunity to have sex with her he would never, _ever_ hear the end of it.

"Thanks." Sid blinked, surprised to find she'd snuck up on him. He took a certain pride in having a kind of sixth sense, knowing when other players were coming up behind him on the ice. "It could have been worse," she added solemnly, "so…thanks."

"Phil…." His hand rose from his hip as if he was actually going to reach out and touch her but he couldn't quite make his arm raise the entire way.

"It was nice to see you again," she continued, though her expression implied that the opposite was true. She started to turn away from him and he managed, just, to reach out and grab her hand. She looked down at his hand around her wrist and then up at him and rather than looking hopeful or even expectant she looked…tired.

"It _was_ nice to see you," he told her and meant it. Her gaze searched his face like she was waiting for his expression to crack. He kept his gaze even and, with a little effort, continued. "I'll…in Pittsburgh…I'll see you there." She pressed her top teeth into her bottom lip and stared back at him for a long moment until she noticeably relaxed, taking a deep breath before that full lip of hers' slid free of her teeth.

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

"I'm looking forward to it," he promised her, hoping that she could see that he really did mean it. If only he could see her without all these people around.

"Jesus you suck at goodbyes Crosby," she whispered and that old spark was suddenly there again and he found himself grinning back at her. Going up on tiptoe she kissed his cheek and then withdrew slowly, holding his gaze as she slowly backed away from him.

It was true, he thought to himself as he watched her go, he fucking hated good-bye.

* * *

"_So this is it," she enthused, smiling like something good was happening instead of what was really going on. Sid held her hand in both of his and stared at her mouth, wishing his father wasn't right there loading his stuff into the back of the car. "You're about to be a big star Crosby, how does it feel?" _

"_Numb." The answer was honest but it had nothing to do with what she'd just asked, or at least, not entirely. He'd had all summer to with her and he'd fucked up. He felt like a failure. He also felt like this couldn't be it, this could not really be the last time they saw one another. _

"_C'mon, you're not a teensy bit excited?" she teased, poking him playfully in the ribs with a finger on her free hand. He shrugged. He knew if he said he wasn't that his father wouldn't stay partly hidden behind the car, that he'd feel like he had to add his two cents but the truth was he wasn't excited, not yet. He'd be excited when he played his first game. Until then, it was going to be all press conferences and meetings; nothing to get excited over. _

"_What about you?" he asked. Going to university sounded exciting to him. He and his parents had investigated the idea of his taking some courses when he got to Pittsburgh. Mario had strenuously suggested that there wouldn't be time. _

"_I'm actually really looking forward to it," she admitted and her eyes shone as she did, "y'know, all those rowers and basketball players," she added, leaning in towards him wearing an impish grin. _

"_Yeah, I bet." Sid tried his best to smile and play along. The fact was he was going to miss her and he hated the idea of other guys even hitting on her. "Yeah, Kraft Dinner on a hot plate, studying, messy roommates; sounds like tons of fun," he added, tossing cold water on her enthusiasm on purpose. _

"_Oh well now every time I eat KD I'll have to think of you," she purred, drawing closer to him, her gaze focusing on his mouth. Her lips parted and pulled him in like a tractor beam. Sid leaned in to kiss her but his father's gruff, incessant bear like throat clearing made the two of them jump apart, each one's cheeks staining as if they'd just been caught doing something much worse than trying to get a chaste kiss._

"_Time to say good-bye kids." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command and Sid could feel his father's laser like stare in the middle of his shoulder blades. He should have asked for some privacy but part of him knew his father wouldn't grant them that. After he'd finished laughing at his son for, as Troy had called it, pussying out on a perfectly good chance at getting some tail, he'd told him that it was all for the best. He didn't need some girl demanding his attention when what he needed to do was concentrate on hockey. _

"_Well…y'know what they say, keep your head up and your stick on the ice," she said quietly, withdrawing her hand slowly from his. He watched her fingers slowly sliding from in between his and it felt like his heart was being pulled right along with them. _

"_Good luck in Uni," he said quietly, his hands now empty he stuck them in the front pockets of his suit pants. _

"_Jeez Crosby," she reached forward and yanked his hands out, "those are not actual pockets," she smirked and shook her head. "What are you gonna do without me to tell you what to wear and what movies to go to?" The honest answer, the one that sprang to the tip of his tongue was he didn't know and he wasn't looking forward to finding out. _

"_He'll have people to do that for him in Pittsburgh," Troy answered for him, his meaty paw digging into his son's shoulder. Sid wanted to tell him to fuck off, to shove his old man away but it would be a long fucking trip if it started out like that. He gave Phil as much of a smile as he could muster and shrugged the shoulder not currently being held down by his always grumpy grizzly of a father. _

"_I guess I'll figure it out." _

"_Well, uh…keep in touch, okay?" The expression on her face as she dug her phone out and waved it at him as a reminder said she didn't believe she'd be hearing from him. _

"_I will," Sid promised and it was a promise he meant when he said it. _

"_Okay well…bye." Her arms were suddenly wrapped around him and her cheek was wet where it pressed against his chest. Sid cradled her in his arms and felt a sudden sense of relief in the thought that maybe, as cool as he thought that she was, maybe Phil had felt the same for him as he did for her. _

"_Later gator," he whispered into her hair that still smelled like green apples because he couldn't…no, wouldn't say good-bye. That was too final. He didn't want this to be final. _

"_Yeah, later tater," she blinked and brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand as she backed up onto the grass of her grandparents' front yard. Sid heard his father open the door behind him and he took one, long last look at the leggy girl in front of him with her cut off jeans and her white peasant top. Just then the morning sun snuck through the hedge and lit her from behind and all of her curves were laid bare. Sid bit down on the corner of his bottom lip. It was a sight he swore to never forget. He should kiss her. It would have been the right thing to do but his dad was right there and now they'd already said their goodbyes so he waved and got in the car and then forced himself to look forward, not back_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Wellll, hellloooo there!"

Phil grinned but didn't turn around. There was always one. She was disappointed that she'd missed out on the chance to be sexually harassed by Max Talbot, or Jordan Staal, but she'd been under no illusion that she would escape entirely unscathed. The only question was who would be the biggest flirt on the Pens now that Jordy was gone?

She'd only just landed in the Steel City, and had gone straight to Consol to catch the end of the optional morning skate. She was watching Sid through the lens of her newest treasure, a Nikon D800 that she'd purchased with the big fat cheque she'd received for the SportChek / Reebok commercial. He was trading passes with Pascal Dupuis and skating in a sort of backwards figure eight, his edges were long and smooth.

"So, where have you been all my life?" Phil hung her head, closed her eyes and fought back the laughter that bubbled up in her throat.

"Really?" she raised her gaze to the toothy grin that turned down slightly at the corners and then all the way up to the hair that seemed to sprout in all different directions. "Is that your best line Neal, because, personally, I think it needs some work." James Neal laughed, not looking at all bruised by her words.

"Whatever gets you out for dinner with me darlin'." It was very forward and she was under no illusions that, had he used the very same line on any of the girls watching their exchange very intently from across the ice it would have probably worked like a charm. Unfortunately for him, there was other, more alluring prey nearby.

"Well, I guess we'll have to see about that." The truth was she was hoping that Sid would have pulled his head out of his ass by now and that there would not be a repeat of their meeting in LA where he had nearly ignored her existence. Neal clutched his chest and feigned a heart attack and being stabbed in the stomach at the same time. It would have been amusing had not his checkered suit been even more so. "Or I could take you to a tailor and have something that doesn't look like it came off a rack in Sears in about 1950," she offered with a raised eyebrow.

"She make fun your suit, good, I like." The big Russian pressed an oversized paw on his teammate's shoulder and grinned at her like she was a present wrapped in a bow just for him. "Da, I like very much. I am Geno. My place, I cook. We drink, da?" Phil's top teeth dug a furrow in her bottom lip as she tried not to laugh at the oversized adorable teddy bear of a man that looked like he'd been thawed out alongside a Wooly Mammoth.

"That's very tempting," she smiled up at him as he took a step forward and into her personal space. It was then she heard the sound of skate blades digging deep into the ice behind her and she felt the wet cold of snow on her back.

"Geno! _No_!" The tone was one you'd use with a dog just about to urinate on the floor and it had the desired effect of startling the big Russian, whose eyes got wide as he stumbled backward. Phil clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a bark of laughter. "Sorry, were these morons bugging you?" She didn't need to turn to know that Sid was now standing behind her like an avenging angel; she knew his voice. She heard it in her dreams.

"No more than you ever have, Crosby," she replied sarcastically, winking at Geno whose expression immediately morphed back into that of an oversized, happy puppy.

"I'm a saint, compared to these guys," he insisted in a tone that didn't suggest he was kidding. Phil smirked. Neal laughed.

"Of that I am under absolutely _no_ illusions," she chuckled, rolling her eyes and making the other guys laugh. She could practically hear the growl building up in the powerfully wide and deep chest of the Penguins' captain and decided to dial the sarcasm down to a low roar. "But your warning has been duly noted," she added, turning around to face him.

Sweat dripped from his brow, down his nose, and from his chin. Phil had to bite down on the inside of her cheek or she knew she would lick her lips. There had always been something about a sweaty Sidney that had seemed particularly delectable to her.

"So you got here…uh…safe…okay?" It was the obligatorily polite thing to say and it didn't surprise her that the well mannered man in front of her said it. She nodded and waited, hoping he'd say something more personal, something like how good she looked. After all, she'd spent more than forty-five minutes on her hair alone. Unfortunately, it seemed that nothing much had changed in the month since she'd last seen him. "Well uh…so is that for something special?" he asked, pointing with his gloved hand at the camera she still held in her hands but had almost forgotten about.

"You never know," she replied, because it was true and then she added, just for fun, "I thought I might follow you into the showers, get some pics and start one of those sites you have to pay a buck ninety-nine a minute for." Sid blinked as those hazel eyes of his, framed by the long dark lashes she'd always admired opened wide as he swallowed audibly. The tips of his ears went pink before she shook her head and laughed. "First, Mario would have me killed, and secondly, like you'd let me do that." Phil sighed. A girl _could_ dream.

"Right…yeah…right." He looked relieved and his teammates, of which there were now more than there had been a few minutes before, cackled uproariously at their captain's discomfort.

"You'd be a fucking millionaire," said Pascal, who Phil knew to be Sid's on the road roommate, as he gave Sid a playful shove. "You should let her do it, mon ami. All those girls…you could probably charge double that, easy! Hell, you could probably double your entire yearly income!" She watched Sid duck his head to the side as the colour in his cheeks deepened to a delicate pink. Despite the fact that she thought he looked particularly adorable that way, Phil felt the urge to save him from the shark pool she'd help shove him into.

"So, I took a taxi from the airport. How about you give me a ride to my hotel and we can catch up?" It was an olive branch, and a life preserver, and she didn't think it was her imagination when he raised his eyes to meet hers' and a grateful grin flashed quickly and then was gone.

* * *

"Fifteen minutes," he mumbled, and then looked around at the pack of salivating wolves that had surrounded the lone female at ice level as if she was in heat. Sid bit down on the corner of his bottom lip. She may as well have been a bitch in heat, he thought as he considered what she'd chosen to wear… which wasn't exactly ice rink friendly attire. It was some kind of sundress, one that tied behind her neck, left her shoulders bare and plunged enough to leave very little to the imagination as far as her cleavage went. He'd tried not stare, which was rude, but that hadn't stopped both Geno, and Nealer, from using their height advantage to have a good long look.

"We'll take good care of her for you," James Neal grinned at her, not him, but Sid sent a furious look his teammate's direction anyway.

"Da, look after good," Geno added with a dopey lopsided grin that made the small hairs on the back of Sid's neck stand on end. You wouldn't think to look at the big lug, but the ladies went for that whole broken English helpless thing and Phil had already flashed a couple of hundred watt smiles Malkin's direction. It made him want to stay. It also made him want to drag her with him into the dressing room and tie her up but the image that thought created in his head made him skate back across the ice and head for the safety of the dressing room on his own.

"You aren't going to introduce your new girl?" Sid didn't turn at the sound of his teammate's voice. He placed his helmet in the cubby over his bench and dragged his jersey over his head.

"She's not new, and she's not my girl," he grumbled as he reached to unlace his shoulder pads.

"So it's okay if Nealer jumps her the minute your back is turned?" Sid was glad that Pascal was sitting on the bench, in front of his stall, bent over untying his skates. He needed the time to rearrange the expression on his face.

"Whatever, doesn't matter to me," he replied gradually, hoping that he sounded as unaffected by her presence as he was pretending to be. How anyone could possibly be unaffected by seeing her in that cream and peach sundress that highlighted her tan and complimented her dark Chestnut hair that she was currently wearing loose around her shoulders? He was only fucking human after all.

"Yeah, that's absolutely what it looked like to me when you were about to climb over the boards and drag Geno onto the ice by his ears," Duper snickered at Sid's expense. Sid kept his gaze forward as he struggled out of his hockey pants. There wasn't much point in rising to the bait. If he did, if he admitted to even just being _attracted_ to Phil, he would never hear the end of it and he knew it. She was only going to be there a short time. There was no point in starting anything and definitely no point in sharing with Pascal, or anyone else for that matter.

Not that he was interested in starting anything this season. There was too much at stake. He had too much to prove.

"But she knows you right?" Pascal was now standing over Sid in a towel. Most of the guys walked around naked but Duper knew that Sid was more modest than most and was, therefore, pretty respectful of his preference for remaining covered up. Sid shrugged as he pulled one skate off and put it on the bench beside him.

"We've met." He was close to Pascal, closer than he was to most of the guys on the team, but that didn't mean he trusted his roadie roomie with all of his personal information. Just like most guys on the team, Pascal would use the information about his past with Phil against him if he got the chance.

"Uh huh." Sid raised his gaze and found Pascal looking down at him, with obvious disbelief written in the rise of his bushy eyebrows and the way his mouth turned up only at one side.

"I don't know what that means," he sighed and gave Duper his best glare of sheer impatience.

"It _means_ that the only other person that I've ever seen you get _that_ defensive about is your little sister and you knew the boys were just trying to get a rise out of you that time." Sid returned his attention to the laces on his boots. His reaction was going to be hard to explain.

"I knew her a long time ago, but that's all, and those guys are losers," he added quickly, dragging his second skate off and turning to hang them up and giving himself yet another opportunity to school his expression.

"So you _do_ have the hots for her." Sid took his time peeling himself out of his under armor while he tried to think of some way to deflect Pascal's attention from this particular subject. Luckily, he knew if there was one thing that Pascal liked more than trying to figure out what made the Pens' Captain tick, it was…. "So Kody's in what grade this year?"

"Grade one, pretty big deal," the proud father of four beamed and Sid knew he'd accomplished exactly what he'd set out to do.

"And he starts playing on a team this year? Our little Timbit, huh?" Sid added just to be sure the 'pick on Sid' train truly was well and truly derailed.

"He's a fast skater, like his dad, eh?" Pascal grinned and his chest puffed out. Sid nodded enthusiastically.

"Maybe he'll be as good as his old dad," he added for good measure, grabbing his own towel as they headed for the showers.

* * *

"_So Steve is…nice." The moment she'd opened the door to find Sid standing beside what she could only imagine was a 'chaperone' it had been awkward. She hadn't been on a 'group date' since junior high. Once she'd realized that Sid's friend was a bit…well, slow, it had been even more awkward, especially when she found herself squeezed between the two of them at the movie theatre and sharing Steve's popcorn because Sid wasn't having any. By the time they'd gone to DQ for ice cream though, she'd gotten over the disappointment of having a third wheel along._

"_Yeah, he's cool," Sid agreed quietly, turning to watch his friend walk down the street towards his own house. "He knows all these stats, just off the top off his head," he added with a mixture of wonder and pride in his voice._

"_I knew there had to be something," Phil smiled and managed, just, not to giggle as Sid turned a confused expression towards her. "Well…I mean…he doesn't play hockey with you, right?" Sid frowned and it was all she could do not to roll her eyes at how slow he could be on the uptake sometimes. "I just sort of thought that was how you chose your friends around here…if they played shinny," she explained and then watched as the crease in his forehead smoothed._

"_Oh...," he smiled and then ducked his head to the side and shoved his hands as deeply into the front pockets of his jeans as he could manage. Phil suddenly remembered that she needed something from the depths of her purse. Drawing attention to that particular area of his anatomy made her blush like an eighth grader in sex-ed class. She'd never seen thighs fight for freedom from a pair of jeans the way his had all during the movie. "He does the umm…colour commentary sometimes," Sid offered. Phil pulled out her chapstick and took her time winding the clear wax stick up. As soon as she raised the tube to her mouth she looked over to find Sid watching her…intently._

_She hoped he was thinking about kissing her. Having watched him suck soda through a straw between those pillow soft looking lips of his had been, to say the very least, distracting, which had really been too bad. She'd been looking forward to watching Orlando Bloom running around with a sword but she'd missed most of it._

"_Hey, Croz!" Phil dropped her chapstick. It made a sound as it hit the flagstones of the front stoop of her grandparents' house. Sid's head swiveled towards the sound as if he was some kind of guidance and tracking system. Two of his friends had appeared, as if by magic, beneath the street light at the end of the block; one with a stick, the other a net. Philomena watched Sidney as he stared longingly after them, the way she had Steven's Peanut Buster Parfait._

"_You should totally go," she told him, doubting that she actually sounded encouraging. Not, she thought, that it mattered much. He was like a German short haired pointer that had found a grouse in a nest. He wasn't going to be moved, except maybe by a Bobby Orr rookie card._

"_No," he said softly, rolling his shoulders up near his ears and kicking at a pebble with the toe of his shoe. "It's okay."_

"_Oh my god, Crosby," she gave him a playful shove that moved him no more than it would have a solid brick wall. "Get me a stick, I'm playing too." He looked up at her then, as if she was some kind of mirage in the desert that he couldn't quite believe was true._

"_Yeah?" He looked like he'd just been told he was really going to space camp, or, she supposed, in his case it would have been Bobby Orr hockey school._

"_Heck, yeah," she agreed, pulling a scrunchie from her purse before stashing it, and her cardigan, on the small bench near the front door. "I'm fast, Crosby. You better watch out for me. I know you think you're the next coming of the Great One but I am the reincarnation of Rocket fucking Richard," she teased, bouncing down the steps behind him as he raced across the street to grab his stick from where it rested against the garage door as if it was waiting up for him. _

_He looked down at the stick in his hand and then held his arm out, offering his stick to her. "I have another one, in the garage. You can use mine." It was kind of like Harry Potter offering his wand to Hermione. It was kind of a big thing._

"_I promise not to break it over your head, no matter how big of a whiner you are when I kick your ass," she said quietly. His grin spread across his face and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Phil felt her heart skip a beat._

"_Deal," he said quietly as their hands touched, one over the other, on his stick._

"_Fuck me, are you coming Croz or fucking what?" He tore his gaze from hers' as if it was almost the hardest thing in the world to do and waved at his friends._

"_We'll be right there!"_

* * *

Sid tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. His car, which normally smelled of leather and the pine air freshener he kept in the glove box, suddenly smelled like freshly cut green apples in a meadow of flowers. As if that wasn't distraction enough, the hem of her dress had ridden up over her knees and he could see, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of tanned thigh.

She was watching the city pass by out the passenger window like a kid eyeing the goods in a candy store, like it wasn't dismal out and the city wasn't mostly grey. He'd forgotten she did that, that she looked at the way the light reflected off everything as if it were more than concrete and steel. He felt the corner of his lips curl up in a half smile.

"This is _soooo_ different from Cole Harbor. You must feel overwhelmed sometimes," she said turning to aim that hundred watt smile of hers' at him. He was about to say 'yes' when she rolled her eyes and scrunched up her nose. "Sorry, like this is your first day not mine," she snorted and then reached to turn up the music. He wanted to tell her not to, that he'd rather listen to the slight jangle of her earrings every time she moved her head but she was already humming along to a Luke Bryan song that he liked so he turned his attention back to the road, which was important, because despite the fact that he'd lived in Pittsburgh for years now, he still got lost every now and again. He had a shitty sense of direction and his mind tended to wander.

"So where are you staying?" he asked as they rolled to a stop at a light. He could plug in the address in his GPS, or even the name of the hotel and it would tell him where to go. It was a fucking great invention.

"Oh ummm, shoot," she grabbed her bag and started digging through it. Women kept too much in those things, he thought as receipts and empty gum wrappers started to fly. "Oh here it is!" she exclaimed, holding up what looked like a post it that had been dragged through a mud puddle and then run over by a truck. "The Doubletree."

"I know that one," he smiled, shaking his head as she began stuffing the bits and bob back into her purse. He plugged the name into the GPS anyway and watched the route get mapped out. When he turned his attention back to Phil she had out one of those tubes of chapstick and he felt his chest get tight.

"Oh this," she grinned and rolled her eyes again. "Habit right? But then I hear you have a lot of those, Crosby," she added with wink before turning the sun visor down and carefully applying the gloss to her lips. He watched until the person in the car behind him beeped his horn.

"You must be tired," he suggested, thinking ahead about when they got to the hotel and that it would probably be a bad idea for him to be seen helping her with her things, or, god forbid, going up to her room.

"Me? Nooo way," she grinned back at him, turning to look out the window again with that same childish awe that made him smile despite the fact he was doing his best not to. "I thought you'd drive me around some, show me the city where you're a big _rock star_," she added with a quick glance in his direction and a wink that he felt all the way down to his balls, which tightened up and begged for mercy.

"Oh uh…I don't go out much," he told her honestly. She turned to face him with a frown.

"C'mon, you have like…all the money in the world and you're going to try and tell me you stay home…_all_ the time?" He shrugged one shoulder and kept his eyes riveted on the tailgate of the truck in front of him. He should have got Flower or someone else to drive her to the hotel.

"I get, y'know, bugged a lot. It kind of makes for a long night for the person I'm with and I have to always be thinking about what I'm saying and doing…," he shrugged again, hoping she'd understand. She sighed and turned back to stare out the window.

"So, not a very exciting dating life then?" Sid almost slammed on the brakes. 'Was she asking if I'm single?' he asked himself and then wondered how he felt about that.

"Sometimes." Purposefully he answered vaguely, not wanting to either confirm or deny his status just to see her reaction. As he rolled up to another light he glanced over to find her top teeth pressed down into her bottom lip. He'd often wanted to tug that lip out when she did that. Even now, one of his hands slipped from the steering wheel as if he would reach across the space between them to do just that but he let his hand fall onto the console instead.

"C'mon," she turned, almost fully, in the seat and narrowed her eyes at him. "You're telling me that the Crown Prince of Pittsburgh doesn't go out to the best restaurants in the city every night with a different girl on your arm?" This was a question he could answer honestly and he laughed as he rolled the SUV out into the intersection and made a left hand turn.

"Usually if I want to do something like that I have to pay to have the whole place closed down and that's kind of a hassle," he explained like it was something she might have experienced, which he regretted when she snickered sarcastically.

"Geez, we _are_ fucking Jay-z, aren't we?" Sid could only shrug one shoulder. He knew that she was probably expecting him to contest her assertion but the fact of the matter was, she was dead on, whether she knew it or not.

"We actually talked about it once, how hard it is to just go out like normal people," he added which made Phil groan and roll her eyes into the back of her head.

"Oh my, you really aren't that modest boy from Cole Harbor anymore, are you?"He knew that she was teasing but there was still a tiny part of him that wanted to argue that he was exactly that boy, especially now as he watched her slide her feet from the simple ballet flats she was wearing so that she could wiggle her tiny toes, each painted its own, individually bright colour.

* * *

"_You're not gonna do that here…are you?" Phil looked up at him, her brow furrowed._

"_Why not? You gonna eat that?" she tilted her chin towards the giant bowl of plain popcorn and made a face._

"_Yeah?" Sid looked down at the dry popcorn and imagined it slathered in melted butter and tossed in oodles of salt and then sighed._

"_Then I'm doing this," she replied and started painting her tiniest toe, the one that took barely half a swipe of the brush to paint. She had ten bottles of nail polish lined up on the coffee table in her grandparents' living room; one for each of her toes. Today it was all metallic colours. Sid shook his head._

"_You don't need any of that you know." Phil continued to carefully unscrew the next bottle and paint the next toe before she spoke, a moment for which Sid was grateful as it allowed him to catch his breath. He hadn't meant for the words to escape his mouth. He'd only realized he'd said them after they were out there, hanging heavily in the air between them._

"_What's that?" she asked quietly, glancing up at him as if there was a chance she may have misheard him or that what he'd said was nothing more than mere small talk, not meant to elicit any emotional reaction. He didn't know if she was giving him time to blow it off but as tempting as that was, he couldn't do it._

"_Make up…that stuff," he pointed to the row of bottles. "Guys don't really like that stuff." One corner of her mouth curled up in an amused half smile but she didn't lift her gaze to meet his as she reached for the next bottle and began to slowly shake it._

"_Well, in my experience they do," she said slowly and then raised her gaze to meet his. Sid paused with a handful of popcorn heading for his mouth. She was challenging him to say that he didn't like it and maybe even that he didn't want her to wear makeup or nail polish and that would be like admitting that he liked her - out loud._

"_Ummm…to each their own I guess," he mumbled instead. 'Chickenshit' his conscience berated him as he shoved that fistful of dry, tasteless popcorn into his mouth. Troy had already asked him if he was getting anywhere with 'that little filly next door' and had given him the double thumbs up when he'd told his parents that he wanted to watch a movie with her that night._

_Sid took extra time chewing while he tried to think of some other subject to steer the conversation towards but as she sat back and admired her one, completed set of toes, wiggling them while she grinned, he found it hard to think at all. Her foot was so…diminutive, so…unlike his crooked, bruised and banged up feet which were currently tucked beneath him on the couch and hidden in thick white tube socks._

"_So you don't think it looks pretty?" she asked, wiggling her toes at him. Sid stared at her foot and then at her and saw the challenge still sparkling in her dark brown eyes._

"_Yeah…ugh, I do," he managed and then shoved another fistful of plain popcorn into his mouth before any of the other words that came to mind when he thought about her escaped._

* * *

"You're not seriously going to just drop me off?" Phil stared out at the waiting doorman of the hotel and the brass trolleys that would take her bags up to her room instead of having him carry them for her. She turned back to face him and let him see just how disappointed she was with him.

"It would just be…awkward," he explained looking as guilty as any kid caught elbow deep in the cookie jar.

"Wow, you're really taking this whole Bobby Fischer famous recluse bullshit seriously aren't you?" she looked at the handsome young man with the bill of his ball cap pulled down over his eyes and realized he was afraid. "So, what happens if I ask you out to dinner?" she asked quietly. Sid gnawed on that built up callous on the inside corner of his bottom lip and squeezed the steering wheel tighter.

"Well, it would be too late to make arrangements ahead of time so…we'd have to go somewhere I know, where they would have a table in the kitchen or something. Otherwise all night we'd be interrupted and people would be asking for autographs or to have their picture taken with me and by the time dinner was over you'd probably pretty much hate me." Phil sighed and shook her head.

"You know that could never happen," she promised him. He glanced sideways at her, like a dog does when it's sure you're about to steal its food.

"You pretty much did in L.A." She tilted her head to one side, narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at him.

"You were being a prick then, and you're kind of being a prick now," she told him but she smiled so that he would know she was playing…sort-of.

"It's just kind of a big deal to do anything with me. It turns into a circus and no one ends up having any fun," he explained looking truly apologetic in the cutest hangdog sort of way. Reaching across the space inside the cab of his SUV, she cradled his baby soft cheek in her hand.

"You never knew how to have fun anyway, Crosby," she teased before giving his cheek an affectionate pat. He looked utterly relieved and in the next moment his arms were around her and she felt like she was being slowly asphyxiated by a giant python.

"Will you be at the rink tomorrow?" he asked, his breath warm on her cheek. This close he smelled of expensive aftershave and toothpaste.

"If you pick me up," she poked his ribs, hoping to elicit another one of his rare boyish smiles as he allowed her to slip from his arms.

"It's a d…a deal," he mumbled, his cheeks suddenly turning pink. Phil gave herself an internal hug and promised herself a happy dance the moment she was alone.

"Tomorrow then," she grinned and he grinned back at her and suddenly it was like old times and they felt like friends again. She wanted to lean across the car and press a kiss to those soft pink lips of his but she restrained herself, just, and turned to let herself out of the car. The doorman was right there to help her down so that she didn't see the longing look of the man in the car as the passenger door closed behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to my friend and soul sister Mel for her patience, her editing and her uncanny ability to make me smile at the oddest things...  
_

Chapter 5

It felt kind of like her birthday and Christmas morning all rolled into one as Phil surveyed the cases that contained the kind of film equipment that a film student only dreams of. She ran her fingertips first along the edge of the rugged bright yellow storm case with its stock of gels, filters, light meters; things that she could be creative with. Then she peeked into the larger dark grey cube cases containing the equipment itself, the tripods, poles, mounts and lastly the cameras themselves. These days there was no need for big, heavy, awkward equipment. So much could be done with handheld or at least smaller, more manageable cameras.

"I'm ready for my close up." Phil turned, one of the Sony camcorders in her hand. She pressed record and aimed the lens in the direction of the dark haired defenseman. Sidney may have been the pin up for the entire league and the sport of hockey itself but when it came to the poster boy for the Penguins Phil was willing to bet that Kris Letang was a close contender.

"Tell me what it's like to play with Sid," she urged. A slow smile spread across the Frenchman's lips and one corner of his mouth turned up in smirk that she immediately knew was meant to instantly combust the panties of any woman within a five mile radius. He knew exactly what he was doing as he brushed his silky dark mane back from his eyes and she wondered why he bothered. He, Sid and probably most if not all of their teammates could probably stand out in the street and have women throwing themselves out of moving cars for them.

"He's the best player in the league," Kris answered with a slight shrug.

"Everyone knows that," she laughed, "tell me something they don't know. Something Sid wouldn't necessarily tell anyone." 'Like if he has a girlfriend' she thought silently as the stocky defenseman's hair fell back over his velveteen eyes. He looked like he should be carrying a glass slipper around with him she thought as he scratched thoughtfully at his stubble encrusted chin.

"He has OCD and I think maybe he's some kind of high functioning autistic," Kris answered with a playful sparkle in his dark eyes.

"I do not!" Phil quickly swept the camera lens towards the door which Sid filled with his bulk. Kris neither flinched nor swayed when Sid landed a punch on Kris's upper arm that made Phil wince.

"Do you want me to start naming off all your '_superstitions'_?" Kris asked, raising an eyebrow in a clearly threatening manner that made Sid's shoulders hunch.

"Everyone knows about those," he muttered while aiming a dark look at his teammate who grinned back, looking unphazed.

"Everyone knows _some_ of them," Kris corrected his captain with a smirk that made it clear that he was unafraid of Sid's reaction. Phil kept the camera on Sid whose full lips thinned out as he stared his dark haired teammate down. "Just sayin'," Kris winked and towards Phil who did her best not to laugh. After all, Sid was definitely _not_ laughing.

"Ooh what'd we miss?" One of the youngest and boisterous members of the team entered the room like a bull in a china shop and both players moved for him like Moses had parted the waves. Matt Cooke followed closely on TK's coattails wearing an impish grin that Phil was sure didn't bode well for the Pens' Captain.

"Sid's girl here was just asking for the inside scoop," Kris drawled, a playful smirk on his face that made it crystal clear he knew that he was stirring the pot.

"She's not,…tell them!" Phil hit the red button that stopped the recording and turned to put the camera back in its case so that neither he, nor any of his teammates, would see how much it hurt for him to insist that he had nothing to do with her _like that_.

"Uh huh. Me thinks he doth protest too much," TK shouted out and privately, silently, Phil wanted to agree, except for the fact that it seemed like every time he was around her Sid couldn't wait to get rid of her.

"Shut up Kennedy," Sid growled and by the time Phil turned around he was gone. She stared at the empty space where he had just been and swore under her breath.

"Don't worry about him," Matt Cooke pressed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and though he was wearing a broad, gap-toothed grin, he didn't look like he was about to say something that would make her blush so she relaxed. "He's just very sensitive," he added with a wink. Phil frowned at him. If there was one person in the room who was completely insensitive, she thought, at the moment her vote would definitely go to Sid.

"Oh yeah, his feelings get hurt _verrrry_ easily," TK agreed, mincing as he batted his eyelashes. Phil narrowed her eyes at him. It had been her understanding that Sid was well liked amongst his teammates, ferociously protected by them even and yet, here two of his teammates were, mocking him behind his back.

"I'm sure that's not true," she muttered, turning to put the camera away, hoping that by turning her back on them his teammates might get the hint and leave.

"Oh he's a very tender soul," Ben Lovejoy added as he appeared and leaned his bulk against the table one of her cases was on. Phil didn't even look over at him. They were trying for a reaction and she was determined that she wouldn't give them one. "He likes bunnies and _rainbows_," Ben added with a smirk that entirely transformed his features from boyish to devilish. She slammed the case shut and turned on him, hands on hips.

"Just what are you trying to say? Are you trying to warn me away from him or something because I'll tell you right now, I've known Sid for a pretty long time and I bet there's nothing you could say that I don't already know!" It was a boast that made her wince inwardly even as it escaped her lips but she'd said it now, and wouldn't take it back.

"Oh I dunno about _thaaat_," TK grinned at her like he knew something she didn't.

"Lay off guys." It was Kris that appealed for more mature behavior. By sticking his tongue out and making an obscene noise TK made it crystal clear he, for one, wasn't ready to grow up.

"Well of course _you_ _would_ defend him," Ben laughed, reached out to mess with Kris's hair except the d-man was too quick and agile and had already ducked out of the way.

"Don't listen to them ma chère," Kris implored her softly as he watched the three men leave. She could hear them laughing all the way down the corridor until they disappeared behind the barrier of the swinging doors that lead to the Pens dressing room. "Il est juste un jeu. They're only playing," he added with a half wattage smile that she was willing to bet made men and women alike swoon.

"I know," she replied though she didn't feel convinced that had been _all_ they had been doing.

"See you later, ça va?" Kris smiled and then turned to go leaving Phil to stare after him wondering just exactly what had just happened.

* * *

Things had not gone the way he'd planned and now, to make a bad situation worse, he'd left her with the pack of rabid horny dogs that could also be known as his teammates. Sid threw a wad of tape he'd just peeled off of his socks at the logo in the middle of the floor. He'd fallen right into their evil plan, as usual.

He didn't learn.

There wasn't much the guys liked more than making him act like a bumbling, dithering idiot in front of a pretty girl. Not that he really needed their help to do or say something foolish, trip over his two left feet or, like he'd just done, stick his size tens firmly into his mouth but it only seemed to take a gentle shove from one of them and he would find himself flat on his face.

"Avez-vous réveiller du mauvais côté du lit?" Sid sighed and ripped another handful of tape off of his other sock.

"No," he growled, tossing the tape at the Pens' logo, "I'm fine."

"Ah, oui, I could totally tell that," Kris chuckled as he sat down on the bench further down and began to untie his own skates. Sid rolled his eyes at the sarcasm dripping from the long haired defenseman's voice and shot him a warning look, which Kris met with his usual playful grin. "Mon ami, if you're trying to get laid, you are going about it all wrong."

"I am _not_ trying to get laid," Sid insisted with a snarl as he rolled his socks down and then shucked his pants. "What is it about you Quebecois? Why does it always have to be about getting laid?"

"Because it just _is_," Kris insisted with a wink that made Sid shake his head but smile at the same time. Tanger's girlfriend was ready to burst, any second, and he knew that Kris would be a proud papa but that it wouldn't stop him from gleefully following the next blonde with bedroom eyes into the nearest dark room. "C'mon, she's pretty and she obviously likes _you_, so why not?" he continued to prod at Sid who clenched his teeth and stared at a spot on the floor somewhere in front of him. If there was anything that made him feel more uncomfortable than trying to talk to women it was discussing his lack of game with his teammates, all of whom seemed to be speeding down the black diamond slope while he was still on the relationship bunny hill.

"I don't have time," he insisted. That was an excuse that usually worked for him, or at least it was an excuse that usually resulted in his teammates backing off of him in this kind of situation. This time, when he looked over at Kris, he knew this wasn't going to be one those times.

"If you don't one of them will," the usually quiet young man said, shrugging one shoulder as the rest of their teammates piled into the room like a herd of stampeding buffalo.

"Dibs!" Nealer called with a wide grin and there wasn't a doubt in Sid's mind as to what the affable forward was calling dibs on.

"Shotgun!" TK cried enthusiastically, earning him a playful punch in the arm from James. Kennedy winced and rubbed at the spot but everyone knew James didn't punch that hard; especially Sidney.

"There's no shotgun on girls," Pascal shook his head as he brought up the rear of the crowd.

"Yes there is!" Kennedy insisted. "Right Geno?"

"Da! Shotgun!" the big Russian grinned and mimed grabbing a girl's hips while he rocked his own hips forward and back. Sidney groaned and dropped his head into his hands. When he'd thought of helping Phil win the contract for Reebok he'd never once given any consideration to the way his teammates would react to having a female join them on even a part time basis.

"She's off limits guys, you know that," Pascal walked through the middle of the room like a wave of calm. Nealer and TK stared after him like he'd just taken their binkys. Only Geno seemed unaffected by the elder player's mature influence.

"Rules for breaking, da?" Sid watched as his on the road roomie tried not to smile and failed.

"Oh Geno," Pascal, Kris and Sid moaned all at once and the big Russian stood in the middle of the room and proudly beamed as if he'd just done something truly noteworthy.

* * *

"_And ruin my nails? While I'm sure it would be very amusing for you to watch me fail miserably at catching anything, I think it'll be safer for everyone if I'm just over here, cheering you all on." Phil batted her eyelashes at the nearest senior who was juggling baseballs to get her attention. Sid gazed longingly at her long, tanned legs that went all the way up and tucked themselves into a pair of well worn cut-offs as he took a practice swing near the plate. He was regretting bringing her along. When she'd said she would tag along to watch him play he hadn't thought about all of the other guys that would want to hit on her and he was clenching the bat in both hands hard enough he could feel all of the muscles in his upper body straining as he fought the urge to use the bat for violence and not sport. _

_Not that he had a right to stop her from flirting or any of the guys flirting right back, or, god forbid if they were successful in their bid for her singular attention. He'd spent most of the summer trying to work up the courage to make a move and had failed, utterly and miserably. That fact only made it harder for him to watch the guys who had more game, guys that had honed their making out skills behind the bleachers at Fall football games and Spring formals that he'd missed out on while he'd been out on the ice until he couldn't feel his feet and had been falling down tired. _

_Knowing that still didn't make it any easier to watch as the local basketball and swim champion leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her tip her head back and laugh, a sound that even from behind home plate sounded like the water of a brook dancing over pebbles. He was rarely able to elicit that reaction from her. He wasn't a funny guy. He was the serious guy, the intense guy and he intensely wanted to make her smile that way. _

"_Jesus Crosby, drool much?" Sid snapped his attention away from the group of high school sports stars surrounding her and tapped the head of his bat against his instep. _

"_Don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, keeping his gaze glued to the middle of home base and doing his best not to think about what that represented or if any of the guys in his hometown would get there with Phil before he even got to first. _

"_Uh huh," his friend Steve snorted like he'd just heard a funny joke. Sid bristled. His lack of 'game' already made him feel inadequate; he didn't need to have the unfortunate results of that deficiency rubbed in. _

"_I don't get it," Steve shook his head, his too long curls falling into his eyes. His mother would insist on a haircut soon but until then his friend's hair was unruly and uncombed but it wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone. His own mother fussed if his own thick, dark hair began to curl over his collar, though Sid secretly thought his hair would look better longer and planned, once he was in Pittsburgh and far enough from his mother's sewing shears, on growing it out. "You've been on TV, everyone knows who you are and you're about to become some kind superstar and you're letting those guys get the girl? Dude…I don't get it." Sid glanced in the direction of the bleachers where one of the only guys on the team that could hit the ball as far as he could was flexing his guns and encouraging her to touch them and sighed._

"_Knowing how to score on a breakaway doesn't mean I know how to talk to her." He'd already admitted as much to himself but that didn't mean he enjoyed hearing about his failure out loud. He dropped his gaze to the dirt at his feet. _

"_You talk to her all the time," his friend pointed out. Sid rolled his eyes. This was the time when even he wanted to remind Steven that he was slow. _

"_Yeah, well, it's not the same. I don't know how to do that," he hooked his thumb at the right fielder but didn't look up. She'd probably be checking his six-pack next and that he didn't want to see. _

"_Dude, you don't have to. Everyone knows she likes you," Steven patted Sid on the back and walked away laughing. Sid stared after his friend, frowning. _

_There was like and then there was like and there was no way that Phil liked him like that. She was too cool, too free spirited. What would she want with a guy as serious, as boring as him when there were guys like the ones he was about to play who knew how to make a girl laugh and smile and fall into bed with them like it was no big deal?_

_Besides, he didn't have time for all that, he told himself as the umpire called time and the pitcher returned to the mound. He had lots of planning to do for Pittsburgh. There was packing and…and other things to do. He couldn't just clown around and flirt with some girl just because he liked the way the sunshine made her hair glow with a dark coppery sheen. _

* * *

Phil mentally measured the size of his calves as she watched him bend over a table of posters and t-shirts, the black marker in his hand making squiggles that somehow came out as a signature on them. Legs the size of tree trunks is what the commentators usually remarked when they were talking about Sid's legs. It always made a shiver run up her spine when she heard that description, mostly because it reminded her of how it had felt to have his body pressed over hers', like being under a fallen log but in a good way.

"You're going to make some little kids very happy," she said quietly as she took another candid shot before he realized that she was there.

"These aren't just for kids. They're for fund raisers and season ticket holders too," he pointed out, unfolding a jersey so he could sign down the straight line of the white number seven on its' back.

"You're such a spoil sport," she teased, moving around behind him to take a shot over his shoulder. Her thigh brushed his ass. It was hard to avoid, considering how much room that hockey booty of his took up. "Don't ruin my vision of Saint Sidney."

"I didn't think you'd still think that," he mumbled, carefully refolding the jersey and putting it back on the table before capping the pen and leaving it too on the table.

"Well until you prove otherwise…," she left the rest of her words unspoken and licked her lips while she gave him a suggestive once over. She wished that the soft, well worn looking grey t-shirt he was wearing had been at least one size smaller so that it would have hugged his muscular physique but as it was, she had a pretty good idea of what she was looking at and let him know she appreciated the view. Sid ducked his head to the side but not before she saw the red tide of his blood rushing up his neck beneath his skin.

"Ummm, so what's the plan?" he asked as he stuck his hands as deep in the front pockets of his dark denim jeans as he could. Phil rolled her eyes but successfully fought the urge to reach forward and tug them free. There was one thing about that habit that made her smile. No one had broken him of it yet which meant that there had been no one that had cared enough to.

"You mean aside from your finally taking me for dinner?" she was tired of waiting. They had catching up to do and she didn't want to give him any room to dodge the inevitable. She was insanely attracted to him and wasn't doing a thing to hide it. Surely he'd caught on to that she hoped as rolled one shoulder so the artfully ripped black t-shirt she was wearing slid over her bare shoulder. Sid's eyes followed the black fabric as it fell and Phil allowed herself a small grin of triumph. It seemed Saint Sid was not entirely immune to her charms either.

"I ummm…well…I mean," he looked around like he was hoping to be tossed a life preserver. Phil put her free hand on her hip as her grin faded at the edges.

"Jesus Crosby, I don't bite!" she snapped. Had he not made it crystal clear, for the second time, that he didn't want to be alone with her she might have playfully added '_much'_ to that statement but she didn't feel playful; she felt angry and hurt.

"We'll all go for dinner, hmm?" Kris had appeared, as if by magic, right behind where Sid was standing and now slid his arm around his teammate's waist. Phil looked down at the way the defenseman's hand brushed Sid's hip and frowned. It looked…comfortable that way or at least clearly more comfortable than he was with her.

"Yeah you can tell us all about what a nerd he was before he was a big deal," Nealer added, materializing at her side, his arm encircling her shoulders as he pulled her against him.

"_Was_?" she aimed her barb at Sid who was now chewing industrially at the corner of his bottom lip.

"Oh so, you know him pretty well then," Nealer laughed and aimed her towards the door. As they passed Kris and Sid, she glanced to see him watching them go. There was something…not right about the way he was being around her and now she was irked enough to want to try and make him jealous. Normally she wasn't the kind of girl who played those kinds of games but she was just about ready to make an exception.


	6. Chapter 6

_A big thank you to Mel for her beta, her editing, her additions that made me smile and her imaginative text messages._

**Chapter 6**

Things definitely were not going the way they should be Sid knew as he stole a glance down the length of the table in the dimly lit restaurant. This should have been a romantic dinner for two, if only he'd had the guts.

Phil tore her gaze from Nealer's and her bright smile faded at the edges as her gaze met his. She was disappointed in him and he felt it like a knife in the gut. They were supposed to be friends and this wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting when he'd recommended her to Len Rhodes at Reebok.

No, that wasn't exactly true. He hadn't truly known _what_ to expect. Much like now. He didn't really know what he wanted. It seemed like some things never changed.

The little black tank dress and the sky high heels she was wearing with it made his throat dry and made it hard to sit and listen to Kennedy talk about his latest conquest. Sid kept sneaking looks down the table at her, at the way her fingers curled around her glass and the way her hair caressed her shoulder as she moved. His chest ached when she gave Flower a playful shove and when he could hear her laughter rise above the buzz of conversation.

"I need some air," he muttered, to no one in particular as he threw his white linen napkin onto his empty plate and shoved his chair back. Kris's lightening quick reflexes were the only thing that stopped it from toppling to the ground.

The defenseman raised an eyebrow but kept his lips pressed together as Sidney headed towards the bathroom. If he could just splash some cold water on his face maybe he could shrug off this feeling…

"Why did you want me here?" Her fingers almost wrapped around his wrist. Sid looked down at the dark red nail polish on her fingernails, the colour of clotted blood, and pressed his lips together. He didn't have an answer to that question. "Did I do something to you to deserve being treated like a total stranger?" she hissed at him. Sid met her livid gaze briefly and then looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled, twisting to free his arm. Her nails dug into his skin. He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Well I suggest you figure it out…, _quickly_," she responded resolutely and then was gone, the sound of her high heels clicking on the tile floor echoing loudly in his ears.

* * *

"_You good back there?" _

_Her body pressed against his was warmer than the midday sunshine that spilled over the trees and brushed the lake's dark green depths with tiny pools of gold. Sid sucked a ragged breath in through his teeth as he felt her hands slide up beneath the hem of the t-shirt he'd chosen to wear beneath his life jacket. She wasn't wearing one, a fact which made him glad he was. Just seeing her in the black bandeau top and matching boy cut shorts had been enough to set his heart racing and had dried up his mouth so it felt like the Sahara desert. _

"_Stuck like glue," she purred in his ear. Sid bit down on his bottom lip and just managed to stifle a groan as he felt her hands slide up over his stomach. _

_He eased the sea-doo forward, felt the icy cold water kiss his ankles and her grip tighten around his waist. Half the summer he'd been trying to think up any excuse just to touch her and now her fingers were skimming over his skin sending shockwaves of electricity straight down to his dick. It took every ounce of self control he had to keep his eyes forward and concentrate on controlling the personal watercraft when all he wanted to do was turn it around, head straight for the beach and do all of things he'd so far only been able to dream about in the darkened privacy of his bedroom between his Montreal Canadians sheets. _

_The leaves rustled as the wind caressed their branches sending ghostly shadows over the lake. The towering mature trees and the privacy their shade afforded were just one of the reasons he loved this spot. The other was a towering grey and white Cape Cod style home with the for sale sign on the dock. _

"_I'm gonna buy that house." He cut the engine and let the sea-doo drift near the dock that jutted out into the cold, deep lake. _

"_Mmm," she pressed her chin into his shoulder. "I can see you casting a line from there." Sid smiled. He'd had the same thought. "I can also see you having your big Cup celebration here, everyone party-hardying on the deck," she added, pointing up at the house, "a band over there, a keg, hot girls…." She snickered and dug her nails playfully into his ribs. Sid felt a shiver run through his entire body that had nothing to do with the frigid water lapping at his toes. _

"_I'm sure it'll be years before that happens," he sighed. He could picture it, drinking out of the Cup at the end of the dock, his friends and family around him. The thought made him smile but it also seemed like he was looking at it down a long and dim tunnel. _

"_Oh, I don't know about that," she whispered in his ear. Sid closed his eyes. He could almost feel her lips brush his cheek. _

"_Well…uh…I'm glad you have faith in me." He was, and the idea tingled inside of him like bubbles in a glass of cold ginger ale. _

"_I will if you can make this thing go faster," she snorted and the moment was gone. Sid shook his head. _

"_You'd better hold on," he warned her, making her snort derisively. _

"_I'm going nowhere, Crosby," she laughed as he brought the engine back to life and sent the sea-doo skipping across the flat calm water of the lake. _

* * *

"There they are!"

"Finally," Flower chimed in. "I know you need alone time now and then, but we're trying to have a dinner party. And it's not a party without the two of you here… together."

"Yeah," James added, "cuddle on your own time!"

Phil looked up from her plate, from pushing around the last two pieces of ravioli. It wasn't that the cheese and spinach stuffed pasta in a white wine reduction with fresh basil and roasted pine nuts wasn't truly delectable; it was just that she suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.

If she hadn't already lost her appetite, she felt the will to live leak out of her when she looked up to see Sid and Kris emerging, finally, from wherever they'd been while everyone else had been eating. Sid's plate had remained untouched for so long that Kris had been sent out as a hunting party and he'd obviously found his quarry.

It wasn't the way the long haired, doe eyed defenseman's arm was slung casually around Sid's shoulders that had her pushing her plate away, however. That had more to do with TK, Nealer and Flower collectively singing something about Kris and Sid sitting in a tree while the Tanger pressed a sassy kiss to Sid's cheek. It might have been nothing except that Sid didn't pull away. Rather he laughed, emitting that high pitched girlish giggle of his, and didn't even lean away from his teammate's p.d.a.

"Jeeezuz," she breathed, her fork slipping from her fingers to clatter loudly on her plate. It would explain a lot but her brain refused to process the idea that Sidney might be…. "No," she gripped the edge of the table because she had the strangest sensation that she was about to fall off the edge of a cliff, "can't be."

"Oh he _sooo totally_ can," TK lisped dramatically. Phil stared at him, disbelieving. She'd heard the insinuating jibes but had just assumed it was that kind of immature change room homophobic slurs that most athletes seemed to use around one another. "You should see him after a win, in the locker room…, _before_ the media, I mean."

"No…, no way," she reiterated, unable to peel her eyes from Sid, from how he was sitting next to Kris, smiling as he leaned close to listen to something the soft spoken Frenchman was saying. TK just lifted an eyebrow and snorted, giving her a 'how can you _not_ see it' look.

"He _is_ pretty fabulous, if you know what I'm sayin'," Marc, the even more soft spoken goalie added with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Phil turned and stared at him, studying his face, looking for clues and hoping that this was just some kind of prank. If it was, she thought, it had gone too far.

"Are you...are you seriously trying to tell me he's…," she pitched her voice lower and leaned towards the young goalie and whispered, "that he's gay?" She searched his face, looking for any crack, any sign that she was being messed with. He gazed back at her with a bemused expression.

"As Adam Lambert," he replied without the slightest tic of his eye, or quiver of his lip that might have allowed her to believe that she was merely the brunt of an outrageous joke. "It's not like he's just goes out and tells people, obviously. But, as you just saw, when he's relaxed and with… certain people… he can be himself, normal, he knows we won't judge him. Tease him, sure, but he's Sid. We love him. Just… differently than Tanger does."

Phil sat there. She had no words. Sid was laughing at something Kris was saying, and she glanced at Tyler and Marc, both of them giving her a knowing look. From across the table, she tried to discern the look on Matt Cooke's face. He hadn't spoken up yet, but he hadn't denied it either.

"Well fuck," she muttered, reached for her wine glass and held it out towards James. "I need to be drunk, _now_." Nealer laughed heartily and topped off her glass, giving her a thumbs up when she downed it and thrust it towards him once more. She needed all the alcohol she could get, to try and get these new and unwelcome visions out of her head. For once, a sex fantasy with Sid in it _wasn't_ making her want to rip his clothes off.

* * *

"Are you going to be okay?" Sid asked as she nearly rolled her ankle over stepping off the curb. As he watched Phil leaned heavily against the roof of the cab and reached down to slip off one of her shoes.

"No," she replied brusquely, putting her bare foot down and then reaching back to slip the other heel off.

"I can drive you back to your hotel," he offered. Both shoes now dangling from one hand she looked over her shoulder at him, narrowed her eyes and made a face.

"No, really, you've done enough," she replied caustically and then reached for the back door of the cab again. Her palm slid on the car's smooth surface and she began to stumble again. Sid reached forward to steady her. "Oh…so _now_ you'll touch me," she hiccupped and brushed his hands away. "It's _all_ _soooo_ clear to me now," she added, tossing her heels into the back seat of the cab.

"I wish I knew what you were talking about," he sighed, reluctantly allowing his hands to fall back to his sides only when she pressed her palm against the centre of his chest and shoved. Not that her actions had caused him to move back and not that he didn't want to be near to her, at least now that all of his teammates weren't leering at them and making immature and suggestive remarks.

"Oh, I think you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about…_Cindy_." Her eyes narrowed as she slid into the back seat and looked up at him. Sid gripped the top of the door. Had it come from an opposing player out on the ice, name calling was something he could have ignored. Coming from Phil, as well as being entirely unexpected, he was taken thoroughly and completely off guard.

"What?" he growled at her, his grip tightening on the top of the taxi's back door to the point where he thought it might be possible that he'd end up bending the metal or breaking the glass of the window. "_What_ did you just call me?" She stared defiantly up at him, her chin held high but her eyes glossy with tears barely held in check.

"You could have just told me you know," she sniffed and then turned her attention to the hem of her dress, pulling it down as if she could cover herself entirely from his gaze. "I would have understood." Sid frowned.

"Told you _what_?" he asked through clenched teeth, confused and irritated. As he watched Phil squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before she turned and looked up at him just as a single tear escaped and fell down your cheek.

"I'm okay with it, just so you know. I would never judge you. I just wish I'd known is all," she sniffed as her bottom lip trembled. Sid gazed at that lip, wanting to tug it between his teeth.

"Phil, you're going to have to tell me what the fuck you're talking about," he sighed, running his thick fingers through his dark waves. His hair was getting long and starting to curl behind his ears. His mother had sent him a text about cutting it. He liked it this way. He thought he'd let it grow it a little longer.

"By the way, I mean…it's no business of mine but…you make a really cute couple," she added and then reached to tug the door closed. Instinctively, and without thinking, Sid let the door go and it swung shut leaving him standing, alone on the curb.

"What the flying fuck was all that about?" he muttered under his breath, still thinking he was alone. What the hell was she talking about and who the hell did he make a cute couple with?!

"You should ask your boy Flower," Cookie smirked, laying a heavy hand on his Captain's shoulder. Sid looked down at the hand and then up at Matt's gap toothed grin.

"Why? What did you fuckers do?" he asked, the pieces beginning to fall into place as his mind raced through everything he'd seen, said and done tonight, looking for a reason for Phil's tears.

"It's only a joke, man," the affable grinder winked and then turned to head towards his car. Sid frowned at the back of his diminutive teammate.

"Oh _god_! What _kind_ of joke?" he called after him.

"I told you man, ask Flower," Matt called over his shoulder. Sid growled, hunched his shoulders and turned to march over to where he'd parked; right next to Marc's low slung black Italian sports car, except the Lamborghini was already backing out of its space.

"Hey, Fleur!" he called out, waving at the reversing car in vain. The bass was making the windows pulse. There was no way Flower was going to hear him. He'd have to get the net minder's attention before he'd stop. He was not, however, going to jump on the hood of the half million dollar car. "Flower!" he yelled uselessly as he waved both hands in the air. Marc grinned over the steering, waved back once, gunned the engine and swung the high powered car around on a dime and tore into the night.

Sid shook his head. He'd just have to wait until morning to figure all of this madness out.

"Can I get ride?" he turned to see Kris striding towards him out of the dark. His long haired friend hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the front of the restaurant. "Nealer hooked up with the waitress," he added, which was apparent as the pair came into view. The girl, still wearing her white shirt and short black skirt now, however, wore thigh high black boots in place of the ballet flats she had been wearing and her long blonde hair now hung loose to the middle of her back.

"Yeah, of course," Sid shrugged, dug his keys from his pocket and thumbed the keyfob to unlock the doors.

"Merci, mon ami," Kris smiled, glancing towards the girl who was wrapped around James's waist as they headed for his Mercedes. "Bâtard chanceux. That should you be you with ton jolie fille Phil. Where is she by the way?" he added, looking around the now nearly empty parking lot of the restaurant.

"Don't ask," Sid sighed as he climbed in behind the wheel. "Women, I don't fucking get them," he mumbled as he started the SUV.

"No one does, mon ami, no one does."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Good morning!"

It was like being greeted by a friend you haven't seen in years he thought as Phil unexpectedly, and enthusiastically, wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. It was, perhaps, the greeting they should have had in California but, just as then, he felt uncomfortable with her that close, her soft body pressed against his wooden one. "How was your weekend?" she asked as she slowly, and he thought maybe a little regrettably, slid back down to her feet to look up at him. "How's Kris?" she asked, pulling on the hem of the white peasant top she was wearing.

"Umm…good…I think?" He frowned at the mention of Kris's name and at the sliver of pale skin above her jeans disappearing from view. Did she like him, he wondered as she continued to beam up at him. If he wasn't convinced that he was, indeed, symptom free he might have thought he was experiencing more symptoms of backlash, watching this woman, who had only two days ago been tearfully angry with him now greet him as if he were her best friend.

"You know I won't say anything right?" she stated as she pressed her hand flat against his stomach. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the t-shirt he was wearing. It was a touch he felt right down into his sack and he was forced to take a deep, steadying breath as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening.

"Say what?" he asked, confused and now a little annoyed as she continued to look up at him the way little kids do when they met him; as if he is someone to be admired.

"My lips are sealed," she promised with a quick grin, pressing her lips together and dramatically twisting an imaginary key in front of them before tossing it casually over her shoulder. Sid clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. To him, this was infuriating. He liked to feel like he had control, like when he was out on the ice, could see a play developing and knew exactly what kind of pass to make. She was making him feel like he was on the ice with no stick, a loose skate blade and his jersey pulled half over his head.

"Umm, well…good," he muttered. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask for more of an explanation. If she'd forgiven him for being an ass he'd accept it.

"I'll just be over there," she said, pointing to the corridor where the Zamboni waited like something out of Transformers, "but don't pay any attention to me. Just do what you do," she added with a smile that was as bright as any summer morning.

Sid watched her walk down the dimly lit hallway and out towards the bright lights over the ice, the dark denim of her jeans tugging neatly across her shapely ass. He chewed on his bottom lip, wanting to follow her, to bathe in the warm glow of her good mood… but practice was about to begin and it was his job to lead by example. There was only one reason to skip practice and it didn't have a vagina.

It didn't matter that he'd spent nearly the entire weekend alternately talking himself in and out of taking the chance that she seemed to want to provide him to turn the clock back, to get the do-over he wished he'd taken all those years ago. As much as his dick wanted to follow the smell of freshly cut green apples and forget about practice, he had a duty, a job to do.

Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from that perfect ass and headed back towards the funk of the dressing room.

At least Max wasn't there, he thought with half a smile as he pushed open the double doors festooned with the Pens' logo. If Max had still been playing for the Pens he might have considered forgoing practice. Well really, he'd have had no choice. If Sid wasn't going to make a move on something like that, Max would have.

It was a good thing, he thought as he sat down on the bench in front of his jersey and kicked off his bright yellow Crocs, that there was a different order now. There were rules now. Rules that had been put in place because of that hairy, horny Frenchman and the turf farmer's son. Once he claimed her, and he thought that he would, it wouldn't matter how long it took him to get up the nerve to make a move because he was the Captain.

Life was good Sid thought to himself as he reached for his right skate. He was playing at the top his game, his body felt like it had when he was eighteen years old…or maybe seventeen, he thought with a grin.

"See, I was right," TK stopped in front of him and tapped his captain on the shins with the blade of his stick, "he's not mad at all." Sid looked up at the pug-nosed forward and frowned.

"I told you it would be a big weight of his mind," Nealer agreed, leaning on his more diminutive teammate and grinning down at Sid who narrowed his eyes at the hair obsessed goal scorer.

"What in the flying fuck are you two monkeys nattering about?" Duper asked before Sid could give voice to the same question

"They seem to be getting along much better, you have to admit that," Nealer pointed out. Sid stared at his sometimes winger's expression and then moved his gaze to Kennedy's face. They were, he thought, definitely up to something.

"Who?" he asked.

"You and that chica," TK beamed like he was expecting a boy scout badge of honor to be pinned to his chest.

"You mean Phil?" he asked, a lead anvil settling in his stomach as his hands curled into fists on his knees. If one of them had so much as _touched_ her….

"Yeah, now that she thinks you're a fag, she likes you better," he added with shit eating grin that, seemingly held no malice in it whatsoever. Sid blinked at him, his mind working over those words and then the ones that Phil had uttered both from the taxi and then again this morning.

A light bulb went on over his head. No, he thought, not a light bulb, a fucking searchlight. Jesus Christ on a cracker, he could be slow on the uptake but this….

"You fucking assholes told her I was _gay_?" He expected sniggers and maybe even a round of high fives at his expense but instead they just grinned back at him like they were expecting gold stars.

"Well you obviously didn't want anything to do with her so…yeah," TK offered cheerily. "You're welcome."

"Yeah Cap, you made it pretty fuckin' clear that you wanted her to give you some space so…taa-daa!" Cookie clapped Sid on the back as he strolled past him like he was congratulating him on an assist. Sid stared after him, mouth hanging open, and then, slowly, turned to face Kris who was sitting on the bench undoing his skates as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"Did you know about this?" Sid asked, shock making his voice slide up an octave. Kris looked up, one corner of his mouth turning up, as he shrugged.

"No, not really, but what does it matter? You were not going to do anything with her anyhow." Sid opened his mouth to object except that, he guessed, from their perspective that was probably the predictable outcome. They had saved him from carnivorous puck bunnies before by insinuating the same thing.

Of course there was insinuating… and then there was coming right out and fucking saying it like it was a fucking fact.

"Well, you have to tell her," he insisted, panic making his voice pitch even higher, his blood rush through his veins like white water down a canyon gorge.

"Maybe," Kris replied, cool as a cucumber, tipping his head to one side so a veil of hair fell over one eye. Sid stared at him, at the expression in that one, dark brown eye, and felt his pulse begin to slow. Tanger had a plan, and Tanger had almost as much game as Max.

* * *

Phil fidgeted with the lenses on her camera, trying to make the thoughts rushing through her brain slow down. Her hands were still shaking and she could still feel the heat from his skin in her fingertips.

She'd spent all weekend alternately pacing her hotel room and staring up at the beige ceiling tiles piecing together all of the moments, all of the close calls and the little things that had made her think he was different from all of those other guys who were always rushing past first base and heading straight for home. Guys who groped and fondled with no real clue of what they were doing, who didn't care about feelings, just about getting off.

Of course she knew she wasn't the first woman to be 'experimented' on, or to play the part of the 'beard' for a friend still hiding deep in the closet, but although she knew that she should be at least a little bit flattered that he'd chosen her of all of the women that would have gladly accepted even the smallest flashes of affection from him, all she felt was disappointment; deep, aching disappointment.

By the time she'd rolled out of bed that morning she was still disappointed but she'd managed to get her head around it enough to paint on a smile and pretend that she couldn't feel the knife that was stuck deep in her heart. At least she was fairly certain he hadn't been able to see it, but then that was the only typically male thing that Sidney did do – act quintessentially baffled about everything she did.

"Men," she muttered under her breath as she held a light meter out towards the ice.

"I'm sorry." She froze, squeezed her eyes shut and cursed silently. "I know it must be a terrible shock to you. I'm sure that's not how he meant for you to find out but I think he just thought that maybe you knew." Phil allowed herself a moment to breathe, and did her best to rearrange her features as she'd done before, so she could turn around and face the man who'd helped to break her heart without letting him see it.

"Of course I _should_ have seen it," she forced herself to grin and roll her eyes in a self deprecating way while Kristopher smiled down at her as if he truly felt sorry for her. 'Oh, if only all those girls knew' she thought as her gaze followed the sharp planes of his cheekbones down to the supple lines of his mouth. She thought of Sid's full, soft lips kissing that mouth and turned away again, her insides twisting painfully.

"He's mortified, of course," Kris added, placing his hand softly on hers where she was holding fast to the half boards. She had to fight the urge to shake it off. He touched Sidney with that hand, things she had wanted to do; things she would never do now.

"He shouldn't be," she lied, her voice breathy as she did her best to keep the tears at bay. She'd done well, she thought, up until that point, but how much longer she could hold out seemed dependent on how intent Kris was on trying to console her.

"You should really tell him that," Kris encouraged her, his voice low and soft in her ear, his hair brushing softly against her temple as he encroached on her personal space. A not so nice retort leaped to the tip of her tongue but she pressed her lips firmly together and swallowed those words, then licked her lips as formed a less sarcastic reply.

"Maybe we should go out, just the three of us, so I can get to know you better," she suggested, turning in the circle of his arms to face the handsome Frenchman. 'If this ever comes out' she thought to herself as he aimed a panty combusting smile down at her, 'there will be a line of women all over Pittsburgh to throw themselves off the nearest bridge'.

"Orrrrr," a long arm reached in and drew her out of the cinnamon scented space around Kris and up against the chest protector of James Neal, "we could do a double date. Doesn't that sound like a lot more fun?" She felt relieved by the cocky forward's sudden intrusion and leaned back against him as he locked his arm around her waist. Kris aimed a frosty stare over her head and it was all she could do not look pleased. So what if Prince Charming's plans were undone, she hated him…just a little.

"Sounds like lots of fun," she purred and batted her eyelashes at Kris who managed, _just_, not to scowl at her too.

"Sûrement." She could see the effort it took for him to turn his frown upside down and smile brightly down at her. "I will tell Sidney. Perhaps lunch, after practice?" he glanced over her at his teammate and the warning was clear in his suddenly dark gaze as he willed Nealer to say no.

"Lunch? C'mon cheapskate. Dinner, Sid pays. Dress pretty for me," James added, his arm snaking between them so he could grab her ass. Phil nearly jumped out of her keds but managed, just, not to let Kris see that the PDA was unwelcome.

"Sure," she forced herself to giggle as she dipped her head and looked away before the heat she felt rising up her neck filled her cheeks.

* * *

"Woohooo Nealer!" TK called and offered his hand for a high five. Sid glared at both of his teammates with open hostility.

"Patience mon ami, this will not work if you kill him." Snapping his gaze away from the class clowns Sid turned his attention to his other tormentor, the one who'd come up with this 'plan'.

"Besides, Disco wouldn't be happy if you took out his forty goal scorer," Dupers added with a smirk.

"This is a dumb idea," he grumbled, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"For a guy with no game, I'd say it gives you at least a fighting chance to spend some time with her without all the pressure of having to make up for…y'know," Kris shrugged a shoulder and let his voice die away.

"Being a fucking pussy?" Sid finished his friend's sentence despite the disapproving look Kris gave him. "C'mon, it's what my dad called me for not sealing the deal. I'm sure those guys would too," he added more quietly as he glanced towards the other side of the room where Cookie was now making a show of congratulating James. "And what if she likes him? Huh? Have you thought about that?" He looked to Pascal, the father figure in the room and Dupers gave him that proudly paternal look.

"She likes _you_. She's practically begging for you to jump her every time she looks at you. So either you walk out there and tell her you're not gay or, for your sake, you slow it all down and get to know her again, get comfortable, _and then_ you tell her."

"Except that by then she'll be thinking I'm a flaming queen and would be totally weirded out by me making a move on her," he pointed out, imagining how he'd feel if someone flipped on him like that.

"Or maybe she'll think you're confused, and she'll sleep with you, and then you can convince her you're not," Pascal pointed out in that tone that made it clear he'd accept no more arguments on the subject. Frustrated, Sid ran his hand through his thick dark hair and kept the rest of his doubts to himself. He knew he wasn't going to go out there and admit that he what he wanted was to erase all of those coulda shoulda woulda's. It might start out that way but it would always end up with him stumbling over his words, turning bright red and not saying much of anything at all.

"C'mon man, we did you a total favor. Everyone knows all girls love the gays," Cookie interceded just as Sid was ready to let it go. He heaved a sigh and glared at the playful forward. Part of him knew Matt thought he was being helpful but it didn't make him feel any more positive about the situation.

"And what happens when I can't pick out…I dunno, a tie that matches my suit without Nathalie's help?" he asked, looking around at the faces of his friends and watching as they same scenario played out in their minds.

"Well, now you're just being prejudiced. Not all homos have perfect dress sense, look at Nealer," Cookie smirked and Sid tried, but failed, to stop himself from giggling.

"Alright, alright! You guys win!" He sighed, unable to completely erase the grin on his face as he gave in, "but I'm not kissing Tanger," he added emphatically.

"Are you sure, mon ami?" Kris purred, sliding onto the bench beside him and pursing his lips dramatically, clearly offering his mouth to his captain. Sid pressed the palm of his hand over his teammate's mouth, and then pressed his mouth to the back of his own hand.

"That's as close as you're gonna get," he insisted and then shoved Kris away from him, though not hard enough to actually move him off the bench.

"You know you want it!" Kris called after him as Sid got up and headed towards the double doors that would take him back out onto the ice.

"You know it, Krissy baby!" he called back over his shoulder as he shoved the doors open to find Phil staring at him, wide eyed.

* * *

'_Just breathe_,' she told herself as she tried, desperately, to erase the shock from her face. Just when she thought she was beginning to accept it the wound reopened and there he was, pouring salt in it.

"That was…it was just a joke," he stuttered. She forced herself to smile and nod and look amused.

"It's nice how you guys all…you seem to get along so well," she forced herself to speak and tried to sound cheerful. At least the words were true and she was almost sure he bought the truth of them as she forced herself to hold his gaze until her cheeks hurt from holding the smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting his teammates all to pile out of the double doors behind him. "Look…you…you don't have to do this dinner thing…," he began, still glancing around like he was expecting to get caught doing something he shouldn't. Talking to her, she wondered as she glanced at the mostly empty arena. A few young women had come in since she'd arrived and were sitting in the stands behind them. She glanced up at them and realized that the gaggle of girls was watching their conversation intently.

"It sounds like fun," she shrugged and then turned to go back to her camera equipment; there, she hoped, dismissing him. But as she changed lenses she could feel him, looming close to her, the heat from his skin palpable that near the ice. "You don't need to worry about me, Crosby. I'm not going to tell anyone, least of all those girls up there," she added, pitching her voice low enough that she was certain only he would hear. He glanced up at the girls with their iPhones trained on him, ready to take pictures that would be posted to Facebook and Tumblr before he'd even have a chance to look away, and Phil was sure he was going to say he didn't care about that but just as he opened his mouth he dropped his gaze and shuffled his skates on the rubber mat.

"Ummm…yeah, thanks," he said quietly and then, without another word, he strode past her and out onto the ice.

Phil turned and trained her own camera on him. He certainly looked more comfortable gliding out on the fresh sheet of ice than he did trying to talk to her she thought as his skate blades cut effortlessly through the ice, sending him hurtling through a corner at break neck speed. She tried to tell her body to ignore the way he commanded his space and the shiver that she felt right down to her toes when he took a shot from mid ice that was so hard it rocked the net back on its moorings.

"Impressionnant, non?" Phil clenched her teeth and, once again, forced a smile onto her face that didn't come close to matching the emotion she actually felt.

"He has incredible skills," she agreed, wincing as she heard the responding throaty chuckle rumbling up from the chest of the man behind her.

"I cannot begin to tell you," he laughed and then stepped by her, slipping his helmet over his long hair as he stepped onto the ice. "We'll have to compare notes sometime!"

Phil stared after him, tears filling her eyes that she quickly brushed away with the back of her hand. She would have to steel her nerves better than this to put on a happy face, or cancel dinner altogether, but just as she was giving escape serious consideration she felt a pair of arms wrap around her middle and lift her off the ground.

"Maybe Croz and me can compare notes later, eh?" James laughed, brushed his lips against her cheek and then put her down again all in one motion.

"I think it's Croz and I," Pascal corrected him before shoving James out on to the ice ahead of him. "I sincerely apologize for him. He was obviously raised in a barn," he added with a shake of his head that sent his chin strap swinging.

"At least I wasn't raised with pigs," James called as TK swung by him on the ice, shoving him hard into the boards with one hand. The stocky forward bounced back, laughing.

"No, you were raised with the chickens," Sid called out as he appeared between them, slew footing Neal and using TK's inertia to send him sprawling onto the ice, face down. Phil clapped her hand over her mouth. That was not exactly the hustle. More like the bump she thought as both players got up laughing as they dusted ice chips from their practice uniforms.

It seemed like maybe he still cared after all.


	8. Chapter 8

_Please have positive thoughts about the negotiations while you read this. I am going through serious withdrawl. I don't know how much more football I can watch! Thanks to Mel for the amazing notes. You never fail to make me grin. _

**Chapter 8**

Phil waived the maître d aside. She had already spied the three men at the table as she walked into the restaurant. Sid was concentrating on the wine list like his life depended on it, his dark blue double breasted jacket still closed and his matching dark pants were straining to hold his massive thighs in. Kris, on the other hand, was a picture of relaxation, his gaze roaming the restaurant, his chair tipped back so it balanced on two legs. He hadn't bothered with a tie and the skin that rose at the open throat of the light blue shirt still held a golden glow as if he'd been lying out in the sun. James' knees bounced anxiously in his tan pants and he checked his hair in the reflection of the blade of a butter knife.

"You all made it," she declared as she walked up to the table. Sid knocked his chair back in his rush to get to his feet. James scraped his back with a loud screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard. Only Kris managed to slide from his chair and pull hers out without causing mayhem and destruction.

"Tu es très magnifique ce soir," Kris's smile was genuine as he helped her into her chair. She found herself smiling up at him but caught Sid's unhappy look out of the corner of her eye. He was glaring at James over her head. It was all so childish and besides, she thought, he didn't have the right to play the protective big brother role; he hadn't earned it.

"I'm glad someone appreciates it, it's new," she hissed between clenched teeth.

"Peacock blue… that's my favorite colour." Sid's hand came to rest on the back of her neck. If he'd been straight she would have thought of it as a caress, but as his fingers trailed down between her shoulder blades she felt goose bumps rise under her skin. She looked down at her arm and then slowly raised her gaze to meet his. He looked…tense, strained.

"Is this going to be okay?" she asked in a forced whisper. Sid dropped his gaze from hers' and shrugged his massive shoulders, once. Phil hid her fist in the folds of her full skirt and turned her frustrated gaze to the empty gold charger in front of her until she was sure that her expression was, at the very least, neutrally blank. "So," she began again, lifting her eyes to meet James's and matching his smile with a wavering one of her own, "chalking up some big wins already this season? I feel like we're just missing Geno and Flower and that would be Disco Dan's brain trust."

"Don't include Nealer and Geno in the same breath as the word brain," Kris smirked and sent a mercurial glance in James' direction.

"I have great reflexes," James piped up, winking. The table moved and James winced. Phil turned to glare at Sidney but he was back to studying the wine list as the answer to the meaning of life might be in it.

'_Butter wouldn't melt'_ she thought as she considered calling him on his less than model behavior but she knew just how far that would get her so she pressed her lips closed and lifted the menu. "Has anyone been here before? What would you recommend?"

"I was thinking of getting some oysters," James pronounced and this time it sounded as if he was successful in avoiding the physical rebuke. The sound of someone's foot coming into contact with a solid wooden chair leg seemed loud to her ears but when she turned look around her none of the other diners appeared to notice that she was out with a pack of teenage boys.

"Phil is allergic to shellfish, moron" Sidney growled across the table. She lifted the menu back up in front of her face to hide the grin that was suddenly plastered across her face. Just when she was ready to give up on him entirely he remembered something like that.

"Yeah?" James sounded disappointed. She shrugged and sent him an apologetic glance. "So like…if I have oysters and lobster you won't even be able to kiss me?" he asked. Phil opened her mouth to explain but Sid got there first, snapping his fingers and motioning the nearest waiter over.

"He'll have oysters and prawns to start and lobster with a side of lobster bisque," Sid rattled the order off like bullets being shot from a Gatling gun. Kris shook his head and rolled his eyes. Phil bit down on her cheek to stop herself from laughing. James glowered at his captain.

"_Actually,_ I'll have a salad to start," James snapped, "and the chicken fettuccini," he added, snapping his menu closed as if was a trap closing on one of Sid's appendages.

"Mmm, fettuccini," Phil hummed thoughtfully, rolling the word around in her mouth as if she could taste the creamy sauce already. "I think I'll have the fettuccini creola and I'll just have a little bit of the boy's appies," she added, aiming a warm smile up at the waiter as she handed him her menu. He returned her smile with an equally bright one until he turned towards Sid who was scowling at him, and the menu, and his smile faded until it was a shadow of what it had just been.

"And for you sir?" he asked softly.

"The cozze alla marinara to start followed by the linguine di mare bianco," he snapped, pressing his menu into the waiter's outstretched hand. Phil stared at Sidney, her lips pressed in a thin, unhappy line.

"Really?" she snapped, sarcasm dripping from her lips. Sid was back to studying the wine list and shrugged one shoulder.

"_Kris_ isn't allergic to crustaceans," he replied in a deadpan tone that she knew was designed to get under her skin. Phil felt her mouth drop open but quickly closed it and dropped her gaze back towards her plate.

He was punishing her, that much was clear, but why? He was with Kris. Didn't she have the right to go on a date too?

* * *

Maybe it was just with whom, she realized as she snuck a look towards James who was back to checking his hair, this time in the round edge of a soup spoon. After all, she admonished herself, he knew his teammates best and, even if he didn't have the right to be so controlling and manipulative, she knew there was still a little part of her that was pleased that he still cared at all.

"Put that down, mon conard, before you ruin it." Sid let Kris pull the wine list from his fist but he continued to stare after it as if it was something precious beyond measure. Now he had nothing to do with his hands and he was fighting the urge to stab James in the eye with his salad fork.

Nealer was looking at Phil like she was the appetizer and it was seriously starting to piss him off and not just because he hated the way most of his teammates objectified women. She wasn't like those girls that waited outside the arena or stalked them like wild game at the clubs. She wasn't interested in the money or the fame and despite the fact that her skin smelled like honeysuckle, her shoulders were bare and the plunging neckline of the dress she was wearing strongly suggested she wasn't wearing a bra didn't mean she was just after sex either. God knows he knew she wasn't like that.

"We'll have the Yellow Tail Reisling," Kris said smoothly as he handed the waiter the wine menu, "and I'll have the caprese to start and then the Penne Mezza Luna." The waiter took the last menu and with a grateful and relieved looking nod towards Kris backed away from the table like he was afraid to turn his back on Sid, which made him smile and think that he wasn't the one the waiter should have been afraid of in that moment. "Sois sage." Sid glanced sidelong at Tanger who was giving him one of his newly patented paternal looks. 'I am so going to hate having both him and Dupers trying to father me,' Sid thought but kept his thoughts to himself. He could deal with whatever 'I'm disappointed in you' speeches either of them could come up with, his own father was more overbearing than either of his teammates could ever hope to be.

"I _am_," he insisted, knowing that he was being both sullen and petty, but not caring. This game had not been his idea and the moment he'd seen her in that dress he had wanted to call the whole, stupid thing off. This was torture, kind of like having a photo shoot with Ovechkin.

"We talked about this, mon chou," Kris reached for Sidney's hand and without taking a moment to think of how it would look, Sidney pulled his off of the table and glared at the dark haired d-man who raised one eyebrow and gave Sid a look that warned him that he needed to play along. Sid seriously considered stabbing Tanger's hand with a steak knife. Even when Kris made an impatient sound deep in his throat, rolled his eyes, sighed and reached for his knee Sid refused to play along. Instead, he moved his knee out of the way so hard and so fast it lifted the table off of the floor. "He's so shy." Kris looked bemused while Sid considered a number of ways to wipe that self satisfied smile off his teammate's face.

While he rubbed his now bruised knee, the waiter had arrived with the wine and looked hesitantly at the table like he expected it to jump again.

"Are you just about done?" Phil hissed. Sid turned to find her glaring at him like he was an unruly child that she was embarrassed to be seen with and, at least momentarily, it cowed him.

"Yeah…sorry," he muttered and shoved his hands beneath his thighs as if there was a good chance that she might pick up a butter knife and rap his knuckles with it. She bathed him in the full power of her disapproving stare and then literally turned in her chair so that her back was to him. Sid stared at the back of her neck where it was bare above the zipper of her dress and fantasized, just for a moment, about pulling that zipper down, slowly, and caressing each millimeter of bared flesh with his lips.

It was a frustrating vision because, in that moment, he couldn't imagine how was he going to get from here to there and he didn't see how this whole charade was going to help him achieve that goal.

"You will drive her right into his arms if you continue to behave this way." Kris leaned across the space between them and whispered conspiratorially, as if they were sharing a secret. He knew how it would look and finally, for the first time, didn't pull away. He didn't know how to go about winning her for himself so he was going to have to trust that Kris and the others knew what he did not.

"I hate this," he hissed. Kris smiled and reached out to gently brush his fingertips along one of Sid's sharp cheekbones.

"Duly noted mon ami, now drink your wine."

* * *

"_Sid?" The voice that was there now, so often, in his dreams brushed along his skin like the touch of a feather. "Sid, are you awake?" He opened his eyes. She was there, at his window. He sat straight up, only remembering the state he'd gone to bed at the last minute and his lightening fast reflexes managed, just, to hold the sheet across his lap. He was exceedingly glad for the dark that hid the heat that suddenly suffused his face. _

"_Ugh…I guess I am now," he coughed. The night was hot. That kind of hot that made it hard to sleep. He, on the other hand, had nearly worn himself out jerking off to thoughts of that face of that girl who now slipped into his bedroom like a cat burglar. _

"_Sorry," she giggled, making it clear that she was not, in fact, apologetic in the least. "I couldn't sleep," she added, perching on the corner of his desk below his window. She was wearing a frayed blue t-shirt that came down to mid thigh. One of his that she'd 'borrowed' that he'd never ask for back. It looked a thousand times better on her than it ever had on him. "God, you have to be, like, the only teenager in the world without a TV in their room," she added, her bare legs swinging. He watched them, mesmerized, and then reached for his pillow and pressed it down over his lap to hide the stirring evidence of how much he'd already thought of those legs…in this room…his his bed. _

"_Like I have time to watch TV," he muttered. _

"_Not even Habs games?" she smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing the answer but baiting him just the same. He shrugged. Her gaze slid to his shoulder, lingered and then rose to meet his again. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He'd thought about her being in this room so many times that his imagination was full of images now; images of things he wanted to do, hoped and prayed he would get to do before the heat of the summer started to wane. _

_Of course that would mean crossing the distance between them and actually touching her and that, he didn't have the guts to do. Not yet. Because if he stood up now she'd see how much he wanted her and there'd be no going back to 'just friends'. It would also mean admitting once he got past kissing her that he'd have no idea what he was doing which is what was really keeping him rooted to his bed. _

"_So…ummm…that guy you were with at the mall…?" he began, feeling the same painful twist in his gut that he'd felt the moment he'd seen her laughing and touching his face. _

"_Oh…you mean Brody," she ducked her head to the side, reached up and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. His stomach sank. Steve had called it. 'If you don't use it, you lose it', that's what his friend had warned him. So now there was Brody, captain of the rugby team, six foot something and built like a brick fucking wall. "I don't know. He's okay I guess." She was lying. He was more than okay. Even his mother looked at Brody when he bagged their groceries. _

"_So…are you, y'know, going out with him?" It took every ounce of courage he had to ask and he didn't really want to hear the answer. She looked over at him, her sheepish grin fading at the corners._

"_I don't know," she replied quietly, her gaze holding his for a moment longer than felt strictly comfortable, "I guess that depends." Sid's heart, and other things, leapt to attention. He waited, not breathing, for her to give him the ultimatum that his mother had warned him would soon come if he didn't get off his ass and ask that 'nice girl' out. "Are you gonna take me to the movie in the park or what?" _

* * *

"I'm not going to sleep with him, if that's what you're thinking." Sid hoped he'd made it clear that he didn't approve of James Neal, at least as far as her dating his teammate went and he hoped, despite everything, that still mattered to Phil.

"That's not what he thinks," Sid countered glumly. She glanced over her shoulder at where James was talking animatedly with Kris under the awning outside of the hotel.

"And when did what other people wanted matter to me?" she asked quietly. Her little finger hooked around his and Sid nearly emitted a groan. She had no idea what kind of affect she had on him. Of course she didn't, he mused as he stared down at their linked hands. She thought he was going home to fuck Tanger.

"I mean…if you want to…I'm not going to tell you that you can't," he added just to make her say she wouldn't out loud. It almost made him feel sorry for Nealer, _almost_.

"I'm not _that_ desperate," she whispered, leaning in towards him so that his head filled with the spicy citrus notes of her perfume and the warm, clean ivory soap scent of her skin. Sid didn't even try to hide his triumphant grin. Maybe the guys would have someone else to tease at practice in the morning, at last. "I can't get over how cute you guys are together." Sid's grin faded all at once and he withdrew his hand from hers'. "What? No one's around," she added with a hiss. "I mean, I get you need your privacy but," she added wrapping her arms around his and leaning her warm, very alive body against his, "this is me."

"Phil…there's something I should tell you," he began, his body stirring at her nearness, his head filling with images that came too easily unbidden whenever she was this near. He could end this game here and now, tell her the truth and beg her forgiveness. Maybe he wouldn't even wait for her to do that. Maybe he'd capture her mouth with his while she was still furious. Because she _would_ be, he was certain of that.

"Honeybear, take me home or lose me forever." Sid shot Kris death glare that he utterly ignored as he slid his arm around Sid's waist and leaned his cheek on his shoulder.

"Awww. What was I just saying? How adorable are you two?" Phil gushed, giving first Sid, and then Kris, an affectionate pat on the cheek. He felt his insides begin to simmer. He also felt Kris's fingers digging into the small of his back reminding him that the game was still afoot.

"Not as cute as me," James interjected, literally pressing himself against her like a giant sponge. Sid glared at him. James grinned back like he'd been the only one to pull a prize out of the crackerjack box.

"Well you _are_ like a big puppy," Phil declared with a wink towards Sid that made him feel marginally better. James grin grew as he absorbed the compliment. "A big puppy that still needs some house training," she added, removing his hand from her ass as if it was something rotting and dripping in filth.

Sid grinned. Kris laughed. James looked like a dog that had just been ostracized to the backyard in the rain and Phil stood in the middle of all of them grinning like she was actually having a good time.


	9. Chapter 9

_Who luvs ya huh? I've got a special treat for you. Two chapters back to back in less than 24 hours! More squirmy Sid goodness._**  
**

**Chapter 9**

"Not that I don't enjoy having my bed turned down every night but, if I'm going to be staying, I should really get my own place." Staying; something about the word made his heart skip a beat. It was immediately on the tip of his tongue to offer her a spot near him, maybe the one he'd recently vacated over the Lemieux's garage, but he stopped himself before the word's spilled from his mouth.

"Somebody probably has a room," he suggested, sounding more dismissive than he truly felt. It wasn't supposed to matter to him if she stayed and part of him thought it would be better if she was anywhere but here… and yet, the thought of her leaving made his head begin to throb even though he knew she was even more of a distraction than he'd thought she would be.

_Like now. _

She was kneeling on the seat between himself and Flower, taking candid shots of the rest of the guys. But it wasn't the digitally reproduced sound of the camera shutter that was currently his worst distraction. No, it was her ass in a pair of those black yoga pants.

"I was thinking somewhere furnished," she agreed putting her camera aside and reaching for a little tub of strawberry yogurt. As he watched, she dipped the spoon in and raised it, held it poised, mid air, just in front of her mouth. He'd been surreptitiously watching her close her full lips around that spoon and, not for the first time, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He heard a warning sound, the furtive throat clear from Kris across the aisle and dropped his gaze back to the game console in his hands. Lovejoy was about to take a shot that would be a kill. Sid made his rpg character duck behind a fence. Ben's shot went wild.

"You're lucky, Creature!" Ben called from three rows back. "I was _so_ gonna blow your head off." Sid grimaced. Sometimes it was almost like having Max back on the plane.

"I'm sure Philomena would prefer a space of her own, n'est-ce pas?" Flower interjected without looking up from the PSP in his own hands. He was supposed to be protecting his captain's six, not that he'd given Sid any warning of Ben sneaking up on him.

"I was thinking about a studio apartment or a loft conversion or something," Phil agreed thoughtfully as she went back to snapping photos of the men behind them. Sid found himself frowning. He wasn't a fan of open concept living or post modern furniture. It didn't feel warm and welcoming and neither, he thought, did a recently converted industrial space. He couldn't picture himself in a space like that and his imagination dismissed the thought of being with her surrounded by concrete and steel.

"Don't _you_ have that grandmother suite at the end of your garden, mon conard?" Kris suggested dryly with a sideways glance and the slightest smirk that let Sid know that he did indeed know that he was intentionally pushing his buttons.

"Oh that…it's tiny and drafty and needs a bunch of work," he rushed to explain in as much of an offhand manner as he could manage. It wasn't enough.

Phil turned around and plopped down in the seat to face him, her eyes alight. "I don't mind cozy. Tell me more."

"Yeah, Sid, tell her more," Kris snickered from across the aisle. Sid sent a glower in his direction and then had his character turn and shoot his teammate. "Hey!"

"Nice move, Creature," TK snorted as he lobbed a grenade over the fence, momentarily turning his screen red as his character was blown to bits. Sid tossed the PSP into the seat pocket in front of him. Marc grumbled something about sore losers but Sid pointedly ignored the goalie, focusing instead on Phil.

"They've barely finished the renovations in the main house," Sid shrugged a single shoulder. "I don't even know what all needs doing in that place."

"But she could look at it, oui?" Flower suggested with a raised eyebrow that suggested arguing wasn't going to be constructive.

"I _guess_," he mumbled sullenly. He felt like the only man back with three forwards streaking towards him and he'd just lost his stick on top of it all.

"It would really save me on taxi rides if we went in together," she enthused. Sidney forced a smile and nodded as she hooked her arm around his and leaned in against him. "We could be like roomies."

"Yeah, uhhh great," he chuckled awkwardly. As if he didn't feel self conscious enough around her. If she lived in his back yard he'd have to seriously consider getting dressed in the bathroom- in the dark.

* * *

_As far as birthdays went, this one had been bittersweet. The thing about having his birthday in the summer ensured that he'd always have it during the off season but all Sidney had been able to think of while his grandmothers fussed over him was that he didn't know when his whole family would be together again. _

_As much as Troy wanted to follow his son to Pittsburgh, his mother had insisted they stay in Cole Harbor for his younger sister's sake. Despite that fact, he knew his father would be at every game he could and that his mother would be relieved he would be living with the Lemieux's and her only son would not be fending entirely for himself. _

_Sid tossed his loot on his bed. It mainly consisted of things his family thought he would need out in the big world without them, like a fancy date book he knew he'd never use and a half a dozen new ties to go with the new suits his mother had helped him pick out. It made him wonder if, now that he could afford to buy himself whatever he wanted, it would always be like this; if it would just be socks and underwear from now on. _

_As he reached to turn on the light beside his bed his hand froze as he stared through the window he'd left open to keep his room cool, something you could still do in this small Maritime town where the only fear was a shrew climbing in to make a nest in your gym bag. _

_She was sitting on the top step of the back porch leaning on Brody's shoulder and smiling while he gesticulated like he was telling some story about what a big shot he was. Sid could tell stories like that but he didn't. He let his work out on the ice speak for him. _

_And maybe that was his problem Sid thought grimly as he watched Phil look up at the big stupid lug like he was a big shiny new toy. Maybe he didn't blow his own horn enough and obviously waiting for that right time to make a move, being patient and waiting for that perfect opportunity had only resulted in frustration and his sitting there in the dark, on his own, watching some other guy get with his girl. _

_Sid clenched his teeth, curled his hands into fists while he told himself that it didn't matter, that there would, as his father promised, be plenty more fish in the sea. One girl didn't matter. He didn't have time to chase some girl around if she didn't want to be with him. _

_Maybe this was good practice he told himself firmly as he strode forward and violently dragged the curtains closed. His father, Mario, his agent, they'd all warned him that girls would want to be with him now because he was famous. If he was going to let anyone close to him from now on they'd have to want to be with him because of who he was inside, not because he was a professional hockey player and certainly not because of his pay check. Maybe they'd even have to pass some kind of test…._

* * *

"It's certainly cozy," she enthused as she stood in the middle of the small living room. There would barely be enough room for a loveseat and maybe one other chair but then, she didn't need much furniture. It was clear from the two short weeks she'd been with the team that she wouldn't be spending a good deal of time in the tiny bungalow at the far end of Sidney's garden. That was, _if_ he let her stay.

"It's drafty," he grumbled, peering at one of the windows as if he'd find a crack in the pane by turning his head sideways to it.

"I'll just get an extra quilt, or borrow one from you," she suggested brightly. Sidney frowned at the window and then turned and aimed that frown at her.

"Why don't you just stay at Nealer's?" Phil's hands flew to her mouth as she snorted contemptuously at the idea.

"Umm, because I'm not into men who use more hair product than I do," she countered. Sidney bit down on the corner of his bottom lip, turned away and made a show of being engrossed in studying the whitewashed wooden walls of the late sixties, early seventies bungalow complete with popcorn ceiling and matching avocado green fridge and stove. Phil stared at the back of his head, at the thick, almost black hair that was starting to curl at the nape of his neck.

So, he wasn't allowed to laugh at his teammates but they were allowed to continuously threaten to 'out' him and make fun of him in public? Phil shook her head and made a mental note to bring it up the next time one of his so called 'friends' belittled their captain.

"So…ummm…you don't, uh…like him?" he stuttered. Phil wrinkled her nose whenever she thought about the tall forward with the dazzling All-American smile.

"_Define_ like," she shrugged nonchalantly as she moved into the narrow galley kitchen and began peering into empty cupboards, imagining filling them with groceries she could bake with, things that might tempt Sidney to stay and watch a movie.

"Y'know, do you want to go out with him again?" he snapped. She peeked into the old fridge, imagined it filled with beer and coolers and smiled to herself. The cottage was small but she could imagine it filled with his teammates and their significant others.

"I could, yeah," she called back. Silence followed her answer like a heavy weight. Phil rolled her eyes and returned to the living room, poking him playfully in the ribs. "I didn't say I wanted to marry him, I said I could hang with him. He's fun," she added but the frown lines between his eyes didn't fade. Instead his caramel latte eyes turned stormy and his full, pink lips thinned. "I'm not looking to get serious with anyone, not like you," she added, digging her fingers deeper into his ribs, trying to tickle him.

He tried, he really did. She could see just how hard he attempted not to flinch, but as she reached the top of his ribs he could no longer maintain any semblance of control and twisted away, snorting and squealing like an elementary school girl.

"Not fair!" he declared, dancing out of her reach though she aimed her claws ominously at him.

"You're such a baby, Crosby," she laughed, stalking him towards the only furniture in the room; a worn and obviously well-loved arm chair. "How do you even survive out on the ice with guys _touching_ you?" She sprang at him and he screamed like a zombie had lurched out of a closet in a horror movie.

"No one does _that_!" he squeaked as he fell backwards over the arm of the chair and she landed on top of him, fingers digging into his ribs where his t-shirt now gaped, revealing inches of pale skin pulled taught over toned abs.

"Then maybe I should tell them. I'll tweet it to the whole league and Ovie will stop trying to slew foot you and will _tickle_ you to death instead!" He struggled beneath her but she used her thighs like she would had she been riding a thoroughbred, clenching them around his thick waist, keeping him at her mercy. "But then maybe you'd like that," she continued to tease him. It was his turn to wrinkle his nose at the thought of the Great Eight getting that close.

"Uncle," he breathed. She shook her head, cackling.

"Not until you tell me what you have against James," she insisted, digging her fingers higher up into his ribs and making him squirm. She was getting perilously close to the tiny pink tips of his nipples. "I'll give you a purple nerple," she threatened. His expression became immediately serious and before she could even reach out to grab hold of the chair, Phil landed on her ass at his feet.

"I've _told_ you, he's a _player_, but whatever you want to do is fine. It's your fucking life. Just don't come crying to me when you find out he's been cheating on you with some puck." If there was one thing she knew for certain it was that Sidney had no respect for the girls who threw themselves at a player's feet in hopes of being able to say that they'd scored with a pro. Even back in Cole Harbour he'd fastidiously ignored the girls who were the most obvious in their attempts to gain his attention.

"I'm not actually _interested_ in him, I'm just open to having a good time," she reiterated, but perhaps not as firmly as she should have. It felt, just a little, like he was scolding her, and that hurt more than she thought that it should have. Phil rubbed at the spot in the middle of her chest where it felt like that particular barb had landed.

"Your funeral," he shrugged and held his hand out to help her up. She stared at his hand and then up at him and scowled.

"Or maybe it's because you have the hots for him yourself," she snapped as she struggled to get to her own feet without his hand up. Sidney was glaring at her like she'd slashed his ankles. It was nearly like he was striking her and she almost stumbled backward.

"I do _not_…you…you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about," he snarled, running his hand through his hair as if by doing that he'd stop himself from grabbing her. Phil felt her eyes get wide at the thought of Sidney laying his hands on her in anger. A tiny part of her, far back in the darkest recesses of her imagination, actually longed for it. Perhaps it was that twisted part of her that stood her ground and stared him down.

"Why not? Because a straight person can't be physically attracted to a gay one?" She almost apologized the second the words were out of her mouth but managed, if only just, to bite her tongue and let her words dangle in the air between them. Sidney's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Phil licked her lips as a shudder of desire sped up her spine. If he would only grab her now and press his mouth over her own, maybe, she thought, just maybe she could forgive him for going to bat for the other team.

"I am not…I could never be…you fucking don't know what you're fucking talking about," he repeated and then turned and stormed out of the cottage, leaving her standing there, staring after him, mouth agape.

* * *

"_Why_ am I doing this again?" Sidney snarled into the phone. He could hear Tanger's light hearted chuckle on the other end of the line and snarled again.

"_Now, now tiger, take it down a notch. This was practically your idea_," Kris reminded him as Sid paced his own darkened living room. He dragged the fingers of his free hand through his hair again and then stopped at the window. He could see the single light on in the cottage at the end of his yard even through the rain that dotted the cold glass. He could still smell her perfume on his clothing. He wanted to be with her, there, here, it didn't matter.

"_How_ the hell was this _my_ idea?" he coughed and turned away from the window and from the temptation of going back there, of spilling his guts and begging her to forgive him this cruel charade.

"_You said you couldn't trust that she wasn't here just to jump your bones because you're Mr. Big Wig now, so you wanted her to pass some kind of test_," Kris reminded him in a bemused tone that made Sid grind his teeth together. "_Aaaand, you have no game so we had to come up with something drastic_," Kris added, and this time there was no mistaking the amused tone in his voice.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying this," Sidney snapped as he dropped into his overstuffed leather couch and stared into the darkness.

"_It's your call, mon ami. Anytime you want to, n'hésitez pas à venir proper et lui dire_." Sidney sighed, leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

"I don't know…I'm not sure," he replied honestly. He could hear the smirk on his teammate's face.

"_Then it's not time to tell her yet_," his teammate responded without even a pause for breath. 'Easy for him to say' Sid thought as he stared at the immobile ceiling fan.

"How do I know?" he said aloud. It wasn't really a question he knew his friend could answer but he knew he didn't have the solution.

"_They say you just do_," Kris replied and this time, though Sid could hear a smile in teammate's voice he knew it wasn't at his expense this time. "_You thought so once. I think you will know again_."

"O Dieu, je l'espère," Sid moaned, closing his eyes to better conjure the image of Phil crouched over him. His body was still on fire from the very nearness of her, a fact that he was going to have to deal with soon. A long, cold shower was calling his name.

"_I'm sure it will work out_," Kris promised and this time the playful smirk was back in his voice, making Sid wince. "_That, or you know… same sex marriage is legal in Canada_."

"Fuck you, Tanger," Sid growled, thumbing the screen on his phone and ending the call. It was time for that cold shower.


	10. Chapter 10

_Better late than never I hope? And worth the wait I think**  
**_

**Chapter 10**

"Just think if they knew." She didn't really say it to anyone in particular, it was more a thought spoken out loud but the soft chuckle that came from the man standing beside her made it clear that he agreed.

"Their brothers and boyfriends would never get tired of saying, 'I told you so'," he agreed in that soft French lilt that added to his already impossible attractiveness. Phil turned and glanced up at him, but he only had eyes for Sid. Kris's dark velveteen gaze followed his captain's movements as he tirelessly greeted each fan, signed whatever was thrust into his hands, and smiled into each camera.

"But don't you think it would be good?" she asked him suddenly, keeping her voice low and an eye on all of those around them to be sure she was not overheard. "I mean, you can all do as many 'you can play' commercials as you want but really coming out, that would be something." It was definitely not her imagination. Kris's eyes got bigger and the pulse in his throat became visible as he turned towards her, grabbed her shoulders and stared into her eyes like he was Damon Salvatore and he was about to tell her that this wouldn't hurt a bit.

"That's not for us to decide," he hissed at her. "You can't say anything to anyone," he added, digging his long fingers into her shoulders until she winced.

"Of…of course not. I would never," she spat back as she wrenched free of his grasp and took a step back. She rolled her shoulders. It hurt where his fingers had dug deeply into her flesh but she wouldn't rub those spots, not here in front of all these people. Kris looked immediately apologetic and reached out to lay his hand gently on her arm but Phil sent him a warning look that left his hand floating there in mid air for a long moment before he dropped it to his side.

"It would be…but it's not…we couldn't…," he stammered and shifted uneasily, glancing towards where Sid was posing for yet another picture, his hands jammed as deeply in the front pockets of his suit pants as they would go.

"I get it," Phil sighed as she finally began to understand the Crown prince of hockey's awkward body language. "A lot of the appeal is how hot you guys are and the league doesn't think they'd sell as many jerseys and put as many asses in the seats if it wasn't for your appeal to teenage girls." Kris shrugged but that prince charming smile was back. "I think they're underestimating how many young gay males there are, kind of like the Republicans," she smirked. Kris shook his head, laughing.

"Je suis certain que tu as raison," he agreed, relaxing back against the wall and turning his attention back to where Sidney was grinning down at a knee high fan in a jersey that was nearly dragging on the ground. Phil raised her camera and caught the moment when Sid got down on one knee and the little kid's eyes got as wide as lighthouse beacons. "But would that father let his son worship him if he thought that Sidney was gay?" he added more seriously. Phil sighed.

"Probably not," she concurred. "Men can be such pigs," she added without thinking and then clapped her hand across her mouth and turned wide eyes on Kris who threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"Tu as entièrement raison!" he barked and Phil allowed herself to laugh along with him.

The line was getting leaner but Sid never looked for the end, never looked irritated or frustrated, and he never once looked to be rescued.

"He's so patient," she breathed, catching yet another shot of him smiling while he signed a card, his movements quick and sharp, long practiced.

"He understands his position, how important he is," Kris explained softly. Phil looked over at the defenseman who was still watching Sid with a certain amount of weary patience and, she thought, a soft admiration in his eyes. "That's why it's important," he continued, turning to her, his gaze gaining that steely look it often had when he faced down an opponent in front of Flower, "that you show him how much your care by keeping his secret." Phil stared back at the long haired youth with the features of a Vogue model and raised her chin.

"Of course I care!" she cried and, for the second time clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle herself while glancing furtively around to see who had overheard. A few pairs of eyes turned her way and she bent over her camera, going through the images she'd just taken as if there was something there that was frustrating to her. "I _do_ care about him…I'm his friend," she hissed.

"I know," Kris agreed softly, "I'm just saying, _he_ needs to know," he added and as Phil raised her gaze she found Sid watching them even as he signed the back of yet another jersey and he looked…concerned. She smiled and slowly, and only for a moment, he smiled back. "It's so hard for him to trust anyone, to have real relationships, because of who he is and this…," Kris's voice trailed away and she nodded, letting him know that he didn't need to say more.

"You can count on me, both of you," she told him sternly, "my lips are totally sealed." The Pens' d-man nodded, and then turned his gaze back to where Sid was shaking hands with the final person in the line-up, a young man with a square chin and strawberry blonde hair who looked at Sid with the same sort of adoration that gave his adolescent features a sort of glow that so many of the teenage girls got when they looked at him.

"Aaaand I think that's enough for tonight," Kris pushed off of the cement wall and strode forward, edging his way between the kid and Sidney, draping his arm familiarly over Sid's shoulders as he guided him away.

Phil took one last shot, smirking to herself as she watched them walk away, their hulking, masculine bodies pressed close together. For a moment she considered erasing the shot, for purposes of security but then she turned the camera off and slipped it into its case. She could keep a secret. He'd just have to learn to trust her.

* * *

"Seriously, does this make my ass look too big?"

There was no good answer to that question and he didn't even look up from the magazine he was leafing through to look to see what particular outfit she was talking about. If it was a pair of jeans he was as likely to say her ass looked amazing and if it was a skirt he'd just stare at her legs. For him this was a no win situation and he was making mental notes on just how slowly and painfully to kill Kris for even suggesting that he go along on this shopping trip.

"I wish my ass looked that good in jeans," Kris's voice floated over top of the door to his changing room. Sid scowled at a picture of Tampa Bay Lightening forward Steven Stamkos in an advert and promptly put the magazine aside and looked up to find the two shop assistants giggling. He frowned at them which made them squeal like tweeny boppers but it had the satisfying effect of making them run back to the front of the store.

"Are you kidding me?" Phil sighed, turning to check her profile in the mirror and running the palm of her hand down her hip. "I mean, it's not Sid's butterifickness but you could still stop traffic with that thing." Sid wanted to disagree, or at the very least tell her that of the three of them hers' was clearly the best ass in the room, especially in the slate gray and white pinstripe pencil skirt with the sassy kick pleat that emphasized the fact that you could bounce a quarter of her toned ass. Instead, he reached for a tattered copy of Cosmo that promised to reveal lies men tell before sex.

"Butterifickness? I'll have to remember that," Kris smirked as he emerged from his changing room in a pair of black leather pants and a dark brown shirt that was so tight you could have read brail through it.

"Oooh, you look amazeballs!" Phil gushed, clapping her hands together before turning to Sid for his input. "C'mon, I know you think he looks edible in this." Sid grumbled and went back to reading ten things you don't know about kissing.

"Please, sister girl has no clue about fashion. Look at what he's wearing." Sid glanced down at his dark blue jeans and gray cashmere sweater over a white t-shirt. He'd actually taken some time thinking about the outfit before he left the house today and had felt pretty secure in his choice.

"What are you talking about? This is fine," he put the magazine aside and looked up at both of them as they, at the same time, rolled their eyes.

"Well it's very…what's the word I'm looking for…?" Phil looked to Kris who scratched at his bewhiskered chin and looked thoughtful.

"Conventional?" Kris offered. Phil tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah but…I was thinking more…college preppy?" Kris snorted while ne nodded in agreement.

"Except if Creature went to college he'd never be out of sweats." Sid glared at the two of them and reached for the magazine again. He really was going to have to kill Kris for forcing him to do this.

"Oh no you don't. We have to get you into something…well, something better than _this_," Phil snatched the magazine out of his hand and then reached to pull him up, except that she couldn't. Not if he didn't want to get up.

"I like what I have on. I have lots of clothes, I don't need any more," he mumbled, narrowing his own eyes at her and refusing to move. Phil, however, looked determined.

"Oh contraire mon frère," she smiled portentously at him, "I think we've been through this before, you and I and if you recall, you lost that time too." Sid felt his nostrils flare as she continued to tug, pointlessly, at his arms. He did remember and it was a memory that made him squirm, even now.

* * *

"_It's too small." Sidney tugged at the thin cotton of the t-shirt she'd picked out for him and frowned. It pulled taught across his chest and it felt like the circulation was being cut off in his arms. _

"_I bet it's not. Come out and let me decide." He frowned at his reflection and shook his head. _

"_Just bring me the next size up," he called back and went to pull off the offending scrap of material. _

"_Not before you come out and show me," she called back in that tone that his mother often used when she wasn't about to take no for an answer. Sidney rolled his eyes and made a face. Why were all the women in his life so fucking stubborn?_

"_I'd just like it better…bigger," he called back, digging his own heels in and hoping, for once, he'd win the fight. _

"_I know you would but that's why we're here," she called back in that sing song tone that meant she thought she was winning. Sidney scowled at the door. "You need to stop hiding what you've got and put your goods out on display," she added with a distinct grin in her voice. Sid turned back to the mirror and stared down his reflection. Over the summer some of the 'baby fat' as his mother liked to call it had melted away, leaving behind the trim, toned body of a professional athlete, just as the trainer, Andy, his parents had hired for him, had promised. But even though he could see the outlines of a six pack and the real promise of a pair of serious guns, Sidney still saw the slightly pudgy kid he'd always been when he looked at himself. _

"_I'd feel better if it was a size bigger," he said more forcefully. He thought he heard Phil heave a sigh on the other side of the door but it was a sound his little sister often made when she didn't get her way and one he could ignore. _

"_Fine," she snapped and Sidney found himself smiling. Perhaps he was going to win this battle after all. "I will get you a bigger size **if**," she added, causing him to roll his eyes, "you'll let me see you in that one first." He must have grumbled some sort of agreement or maybe he just opened the door, knowing he had lost the battle. He wasn't prepared for her reaction and he was secretly certain she hadn't been prepared either. Her gasp made him puff out his chest just a little and the way she tried and failed to hide her astonishment made him square his shoulders and flex, just a tiny bit. _

"_That one, definitely." Phil giggled and all of his self consciousness flooded back all at once when an older woman, at least his mother's age, openly ogled his new physique. Sidney retreated into the dressing room, tugged the offending shirt over his head and pulled on the oversized sweatshirt he'd been wearing, all the while reminding himself not to listen to a word that came out of that girl's mouth; at least that had been his intention until he came back out of the dressing room and tried to leave the t-shirt behind. _

"_Oh no you don't Crosby, you're getting that one," she purred, grabbed the t-shirt from where he'd tossed it aside and then hooked her arm in his, "and one in every other colour it comes in." _

* * *

"You should pay me," she smirked as the waitress took another look over her shoulder at the small group tucked into a darkened corner. "I could be your PA and stylist," she added with a wink. Sid grunted something unintelligible and continued to stare at the empty plate in front of him as if he could magic up the dinner he'd ordered.

"You do look very good in that suit mon conard, it's much more…what is the word," Kris mused over the lip of his martini glass, "more _fitted_." A slow, simmering smile spread across the d-man's face and Phil found herself shifting uncomfortably on the faux leather bench and looking away. It felt too intimate, too private a moment to be sharing. Sid did not look up; however he did down his glass of deep red wine and reached to refill it.

"I like double breasted. It's more…formal," he snarled.

"It just makes you look wider, which, if you don't mind my saying, you don't need help with," Phil pointed out in a softer tone. Sid glanced sideways at her and she pursed her lips. He honestly didn't seem to be able to tell the difference between when she was teasing and when she was not, like now. "The single breasted creates the illusion that you're more narrow at the waist than you actually are and enhances your shoulders, which are already as wide as a Prairie sky," she caught herself gushing and raised her own drink to quench the thirst that rose when she looked at him. She had told herself that spending time with the couple would disabuse her of the notion that he was, in any way, available to her, and yet her body refused to quit reacting to the very nearness of him.

"Go easy on that wine, mon amour, you know how it gives you a headache." Sid's golden eyes blazed across the table at Kris who only smirked as he sipped at his martini.

"Stop it," Sid hissed insistently.

"Stop _what,_ mon petit chou?" Kris raised a single eyebrow as he set his glass down. The two men's gazes locked and it was Sid who was first to drop his gaze back down to his glass. He swirled the dark red liquid in his glass and then downed it all in one gulp. Phil looked to Kris for an explanation but the dark haired young man across the table merely shrugged one shoulder and then turned his bemused gaze toward the sounds coming from the busy kitchen of the Italian diner. She turned back to Sid as he reached for the bottle again.

"Would you like me to go and leave you two alone?" His fingers curled around the neck of the bottle hard enough she wondered if the glass might shatter. She stared at his thick fingers and wished not to imagine them digging into her own pale skin.

"No," was his only reply before he tipped the bottle and drained it into his own glass, eyeing the remnants at the bottom of the bottle as if by staring long enough it might refill itself.

"I believe you are making our guest uncomfortable," Kris pointed out. Sid ignored him as he swirled the red liquid in his glass. Phil did shift uncomfortably on the seat, sending a pleading look towards the waitress as she passed by and raising her empty glass in what she hoped was a meaningful way.

"_I _am?" Sid sneered, tipping his fourth glass of rich burgundy into his mouth.

"Oui, _tu es_," Kris hissed back and with lightening like reflexes he reached out and snapped his hand around Sid's wrist, pulling his hand and glass down. While Phil watched and held her breath the two men struggled, veins distended, fire in their eyes. It should have made her cringe. It should have embarrassed her to have the two of them behaving this way in public but the fact of the matter was that she felt neither of those things.

What she felt was a delicious mixture of anticipation and arousal.

Not that she wanted them to have an actual physical fight; she wished no harm to either man. It was just the testosterone in the air mixing and melding with her hyper sensitive emotions, the unsatisfied needs she'd come to this city with. Phil bit down on her bottom lip and reluctantly forced herself to stare down at her empty plate and not at the two beautiful men she was sitting with until she heard the obnoxiously buoyant tones of the waitress greeting them once again and her own glass being refilled. Only then did she allow herself to look over at Sid who was back to staring at his glass like he was trying to destroy it with some kind of Jedi mind trick.

"Ah, linguini, mon favori," Kris grinned down at his plate as it was slid in front of him. As the chicken cacciatore was put in front of her, Phil found she suddenly was not at all hungry, at least for food.

* * *

The bedroom light in the cottage was still on when he woke from another dream that had left him gasping out loud with a mixture of sweat and other bodily fluids, causing him to stick to the sheets. Sid pushed open the window and gulped in the cool Autumn air.

This plan of Tanger's wasn't working. He wasn't endearing himself to her at all. In fact the opposite was true if tonight was anything to go by. He felt even more awkward around her than he had before and he hadn't thought that was possible. If he made a move on her now he thought that she'd probably die laughing first and then say no. He felt sure that he'd probably had a better chance of getting with her before all of these shenanigans had started.

The problem was he wanted her more than ever now. Her sweet citrusy scent filled his head and her voice walked through his dreams teasing and tormenting him, making him toss and turn until he finally took matters into his own hands and swam back to consciousness with her name on his tongue.

He'd thought about telling her the truth when they'd got home, when they'd parted ways at the garden gate, but his heart had begun beating so hard when she'd stood in the moonlight, her bags in her hands and gone up on tip toe to press a harmless kiss onto his cheek that he'd found himself mute, unable to do more than grunt as she'd waved goodnight. He'd even considered following her down the path to the door of the cozy little cabin and showing her without words all of the things he'd been thinking all day but he hadn't done that either. He'd just stood there and watched her walk away, like he always did.

Slamming the window down Sid drew the curtains and turned back to his empty bed. He needed his sleep. They had a noon game and he'd have to be up early for morning practice. Pulling the sheets up to his neck he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the last time they'd played the Isles. There was so much animosity between the two teams now he hoped those competitive juices would chase away the remnants of the dream that had woken him but almost as soon as he began to drift towards the land of nod she was there, like a willow wisp, dancing just out of the corner of his eye, teasing him again.

He groaned in frustration and tried to refocus on the elements of winning a face off against Tavares but she was there again, waving from the penalty box, her pale skin almost glowing as he turned to skate towards her, leaving his stick and gloves behind on the ice. He almost wrenched the door off of its hinges to get to her and suddenly her fingers were in his hair as he captured her sweet mouth with his own. He was hard, immediately, and pressed himself against her, pressing her up against the glass and ignoring the roar of the crowd.

He was glad of the flimsy sundress she wore. It was easy to find his way to her molten core, teasing her with the fingers of one hand while the other fumbled with the laces on his hockey pants, cursing his old fashioned jock in his eagerness to get to her. Her lips were like butterflies on his throat and he could hear her gasp as he shoved two fingers up inside of her, hot and tight and wet for him.

"Oh…fuuuuuck…Phil-o-men-a," he cried out, his cock jerking in his hand as he came, sending jets of white jizz over his hand and onto his stomach. Lying there, in the dark, sticky with his own desire, Sid knew he couldn't keep up this charade for long.


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm trying to have positive thoughts about Sid and Tazer in the 'talks' today...**  
**_

**Chapter 11**

"I want out." He'd woken with the certainty that this game they'd been playing was getting him absolutely nowhere. If he wanted Phil he was just going to have to grow a pair, let her know and deal with the consequences of his actions. He'd expected Kris to immediately agree and be encouraging, but instead his teammate shrugged and continued lacing his skates. "Fuck…man, I can _not_ do it anymore."

"Ce sont ton funérailles," Kris shrugged, blowing his bangs out of his eyes as he concentrated on tugging his laces tight.

"It's not working. I mean…you _do_ fucking see that right?" Sid stood over his defenseman and glared at the top of his head while Kris continued to behave as if this wasn't a life and death discussion.

"Oui, je ne suis pas aveugle," Kris replied acerbically. Sid took a deep breath in through his nose and held it in his lungs for a ten count before he blew it out.

"You're supposed to be my wing man here," he pointed out through teeth that were clenched together a little more tightly than they should have been… but he'd expected more support than he was getting.

"And you're supposed to behave like an adult instead of a sullen teenager, but we don't always get what we want, hmmm? I mean, the whole idea of having me there was you're supposed to relax not be…be…," Kris's brow creased as he fought for the words and then gave up, "remonté comme un ressort."

"Well I can't relax because _I am not fucking gay!_" Sid snapped, loud enough that the entire room fell silent, and he could practically hear every head swivel as every set of eyes turned towards him.

"And you know what they say about guys that protest that much," Dupers' hand came to rest on Sidney's shoulder and it was only his friend's easy going smile that stopped Sid from pushing his hand away and snapping at him as well. The noise level in the room went back to normal, but no one laughed at his expense. Most knew better than to mess with their Captain when he got in a mood like this.

"It's _not_ funny," he muttered. Pascal gave his shoulder a squeeze, followed by an encouraging sort of pat.

"Oh, it _so _fucking is but you're probably right, little buddy," he added with a wide grin, "it would be better if you manned the fuck up and did it on your own." Sid let out a sigh, his entire body relaxing all at once.

"I know. I fucking _know_," he muttered, mostly under his breath.

"_Buuuut,_ you still have no idea how the fuck you're going to do it, oui?" Kris smirked. Sid felt the truth of those words hit him in the pit of his stomach like a well aimed punch to the gut.

"Yeah, something like that," he admitted with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

"I have faith in you," Pascal gave his shoulder another encouraging squeeze. "You'll know what to do when the time is right." Sid gave him a weak half a smile.

"Ah, oui il sera, baow chi chi bow wow," Flower, already in full gear, feigned humping Tanger's shoulder and Sid was forced to chuckle at the sight.

"Okay guys, enough fucking around. We've got a big fucking game today. Let's settle the fuck down and get our heads in the game," Dan called out, appearing at the door with neither his suit jacket nor his tie. Those would go on just before he appeared behind the bench. "And don't forget we've got that photo shoot for the Animal Rescue League after the game so no one takes off, understood?"

There was a sound that rose from every throat in the room, something military like boo-yah and then each head was down and all thoughts of Phil were expunged…for the time being.

* * *

"I see they saved the best for last," Phil smirked without looking up from glancing through the photos she'd already taken. It was like leafing through porn; looking at big, muscular guys with adorable little bundles of squirming fuzz. It made her ovaries get up and beg.

"Yeah, well, I usually take the longest to get out of the room so…," his voice trailed off when she looked up at him. Their gazes locked for only a second before he looked away. It always seemed to be like that now. He could barely look at her. It was almost like he could hardly stand to be in the same room as her and she was beginning to form a theory as to why that was.

She couldn't stop looking at him like she wanted to eat him with a spoon. Like now, the light blue t-shirt he was wearing looked like it was wearing him the way it clung to Sid's massive shoulders and stretched across his equally mile wide chest. She had to fight the urge to lick her lips…never mind drop her camera, run across the room, and rip it off of him.

"Cat or dog?" she asked, keeping her toner professional but clipped. She needed to put some distance between them. Maybe if she could manage that he would warm up to her and they could at least be friendly with one another.

"Dog," he replied, looking around the grassy area where she'd set up.

"I had an inkling you might say that," she said with a smile as she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and texted the handler to bring another endearingly cute little face in need of adoption. If she could she'd bring them all home…except it wasn't really _her_ home and she suspected she might not even be staying in the city much longer, at least not if _he_ had anything to do with it.

The volunteer from the animal shelter rounded the corner carrying a black lab puppy with floppy ears and a round milk tummy, his tongue hanging out, and his tail wagging in a circle like a helicopter. It took considerable effort for her not to make a sound, especially when the woman placed the wriggling ball into Sid's arms. The combination of his fully flexed biceps and the puppy's pink tongue on his cheek was enough to melt any woman's heart but it lit a fire in Phil's panties that was truly uncomfortable.

She turned away and fiddled with her camera, changed the battery pack unnecessarily and fidgeted with colour filters until she felt her heart rate slow. She'd told herself, over and over again, that there was no use having these thoughts when there was no way in hell her darkest, most desperate fantasies were ever going to come true but then all he had to do was flex his muscles, or smile, and her imagination just went there of its own accord. She had no control.

It was deeply disturbing and more than just a little embarrassing. After all, he'd made it crystal clear whose team he was batting for even if he had been respectful enough not to stick his tongue down Kris's throat in front of her. Had the tables been reversed, Phil wasn't sure if she'd have shown so much restraint.

"Ready?" she asked, turning with camera in hand to find Sid sitting in the grass with the puppy curled contentedly on his lap, getting its round little tummy rubbed.

"Damn, that's cute," she mumbled, she thought, mostly to herself but Sid looked up immediately and grinned.

"That's what the ladies tell me." Phil groaned and shook her head. That was something she'd have expected James or TK to say. From one of those players it was expected; from Sid it was cloying, desperate.

"Seriously, don't do that," she huffed, making a face that she could feel was full of disapproval and impatience. His smile faded at the edges. "It's not cute when you do it. You're…," she made a dismissive gesture with her free hand and then hid behind her camera, aiming the lens mostly at the puppy as it stretched and yawned, all soft pads and curling pink tongue.

"I'm what?" he prodded, his eyes boring through the lens of the camera until it felt like he was turning the pages of her diary, peeking at her personal most intimate thoughts.

"You know, so don't poke," she insisted, turning the camera so she could get a different angle. His caramel macchiato gaze followed her movements like he was watching a play unfold, waiting for that perfect time to strip the puck off an unwary opponent.

"I'd like to hear you say it." She was certain that it wasn't her imagination; his eyes seemed to light up as he poked her again, as if he was enjoying watching her squirm. Phil clenched her teeth together and refused to give in until his smile faded altogether.

"You've changed a lot," she told him. He made a face and turned his attention to the soft, warm bundle in his lap.

"Not really," he replied softly.

"I'm not saying it's your fault," she continued as he picked the puppy up and cradled it, baby like, in his arms, a sight that made her ovaries pulsate like they'd been hit with a cattle prod. "It's probably just the whole fame thing but…you used to be…nicer and more… modest," she added, taking one more shot of the irresistible pairing and then turning away like she was checking the photos she'd just taken when the truth was more like she needed a moment.

She was half frustrated with his cocky, immature behavior and half turned on by the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his jeans to the breaking point. She thought she could hear the seams throwing in the towel.

"I'm not mean." She nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't heard him get up but suddenly he was there, at her elbow right along with the musky smell that clung to all the players despite the shower he'd taken so recently that his dark hair was still damp under the baseball hat he was wearing.

"Well I don't know what you'd call it but you're not _nice_ to me," she pointed out, keeping her gaze riveted to the images on the view screen as she thumbed through them. There were plenty of cute shots. At least she could still do her job, she thought to herself like an affirmation.

"Phil…," his voice had taken on a soft, almost pleading tone and she could feel herself giving in when the puppy reached out and nipped at her sleeve. She smiled down at the gorgeous little furball.

"Naughty baby," she smiled as she reached out with her free hand and stroked its velvet soft cheek. "Yes you're a good boy, aren't you? Yes you are. Who's the cute little boy, hmm?" The puppy wriggled and squirmed in Sid's arms, its entire body wagging with pleasure.

"You used to think that about me," Sid spat out suddenly. Phil raised her gaze very slowly to meet his, eyebrows raised.

"What's with the fishing for compliments?" she asked slowly, keeping her voice pitched low. The handler was inching closer.

"I'm just…I think…I mean…there's this misunderstanding. Thing are…they're different," he stuttered, sounding like the shy, earnest kid he'd been when they'd first met. Phil narrowed her eyes at him.

"Fuck, Crosby, of _course_ they are. You suck dick, that kinda changes shit," she hissed back at him. The tips of his ears immediately blazed bright crimson and he glanced around to see if anyone was within ear shot.

"No…actually, see that's the thing. I don't."

* * *

If he'd expected her to throw her arms around him and everything to be forgiven, what happened next was a letdown of monumental proportions. What Phil did do was cock her head to the side, wearing an expression of pure pity, and then she laughed.

"See I get it, I _do_," she began, shaking her head as she turned away from him and began putting away her camera equipment in the boxes set out on a small nearby table while the volunteer from the shelter came to retrieve the dog from his arms. "I'm sure you really think that the whole gay pride thing wouldn't be good for your brand, and I'm sure the league doesn't want its butch image sullied by having players come out of the closet, but I just think _you_ shouldn't be so ashamed of it." She zipped up one bag and started putting away smaller pieces in another box. He knew what she was saying would have probably been important, had he in fact actually been gay, but as it was all he could concentrate on was those knee high suede boots that laced up the back of her calf and the painted on tight jeans she was wearing that were currently cupping her ass like it was the crown fucking jewels.

She was saying something else, or at least her lips were moving but he didn't hear the actual sounds that were coming out of her mouth. All he could hear was the sound of his own blood pounding in his hears and a voice in his head that was appealing for him to 'fucking do _something'_.

Taking the two steps forward that was necessary to close the gap between them Sid grabbed her face in both of his hands and mashed his lips against hers'.

He tried to move his lips but it was hard to do without her moving her own and she definitely wasn't melting into him or easing into the kiss like he'd imagined she would. Sid opened his eyes and she was staring at him, wide eyed. But it wasn't panic in Phil's eyes; it was laughter.

Sid pulled his body away from hers' and turned his back on the amusement on her face that was clearly at his expense.

"I'm sorry, I know you were probably working yourself up to that but, Christ on a bike, Crosby, haven't I already been your Beard once? Seriously, do you think I would volunteer for that position again?" Sid felt his features form into a frown, trying to follow what she was saying but the feel of her body pressed against his, if only for a few short moments, had his brain focused on…other things. "You don't even know what that is, do you?" She rolled her eyes at him and pursed her lips in a sort of comically frustrated way. "You should really allow yourself to spend some time in the gay community. There are things you should know and…" And he couldn't just watch her lips moving when what he wanted was to be kissing them and it only took a handful of the soft dark blue sweater she was wearing to bring her to him so he could cover her mouth with his and stop the noise coming out of it.

For a moment it was bliss, or at least until her little fists were pounding at his upper arms, which was about as annoying as mosquitoes, which he could have easily ignored but her knee in his groin? Sid doubled over and let out a string of curses under his breath while she stood over him, staring at him like he'd committed murder, not merely kissed her.

"I don't get it," he groaned, cupping his tender bits. "Everyone says you've been wanting me to do that ever since you got here."

"You…you…," she glared at him, the cheeks on her beautiful face alight with colour, and her big dark eyes wide, "you are _so infuriating!_"

"Well _do_ you?" he asked, trying to straighten out and wincing, prodding his still very tender spot where her knee had come into full contact with his member at half mast. She frowned at him and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Do you want me to kiss you or don't you?"

"That…clearly that doesn't matter because you're _gay_!" she cried far louder than she'd obviously meant to because she immediately covered her mouth with both of her hands and quickly glanced around to see who might have overheard. Sid already knew they were alone so he just took in the sight of her, the sweater he wanted to run his hands over before he peeled it off her and the impossibly tight jeans that he thought he might need some special tool to get them off of her.

"That's just what I've been trying to tell you, I'm _not_," he insisted again only to have her pale brow crease as she stood staring at him with her hands on her hips; hips that he was sure would fill his hands perfectly as he….

"Stop staring at me like I'm a puppy in a pet store window," she snapped and Sid forced himself to raise his gaze to meet hers'. "If you're not…and I'm not saying I _believe_ that by the way, why on earth would you go through all…all _that_ with Tanger and…_and everyone else_ to make me believe that you _are_?" Sid sighed, dropped his gaze from her accusatory one and lifted his cap to run his fingers through his thick head of hair.

"They thought…we _all_ thought maybe that it would be easier…see I don't really…I'm not good at…well you know," he raised his gaze to meet hers slowly and pleaded with her to understand. She stared back at him, unmoved. "You know I'm not good at talking to girls!" he cried.

* * *

_She had a feeling about tonight; a good feeling that had butterflies taking flight in her stomach. The only negative thing about tonight was that it was coming so late. Sure she'd had some fun with a couple of the other boys in this sleepy hamlet over the summer but there was something about the boy next door that had made her keep her options open. _

_He'd be a heartbreaker one day, she reasoned as she stretched her bare tanned legs alongside his and leaned back to peer up at the black velvet sky dotted with shimmering diamond stars. One day when he was more certain of himself, when he accepted the fact that he looked like he'd stepped off of the frieze of a Greek temple and that he set the hearts of both full grown women and young girls racing with just his boyish smile. One day soon he'd leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake…but not tonight. _

_Tonight he was going to finally work up the courage to make a move; she felt it in her bones. It had only taken all summer despite the fact that they'd both felt it, the immediate attraction, the first day they'd met. Tonight felt different though. Tonight there was a snap in the air, a sort of dry electricity like static cling, like he was the sock and she was the shirt and there was no way that they could avoid the inevitable. Not tonight. _

"_Is that a satellite, or a shooting star?" she asked as a flash of light sped across the sky. When only silence followed her question Phil lowered her gaze to find him not staring at the sky or the huge outdoor movie screen but only and intently at her and more specifically at her mouth. _

'_This is it' she thought as she held herself very still and waited with her heart racing, her own gaze now fixated on his plump pink lips. Would they be as soft as she'd imagined? Would it be a good kiss? A long, soft one that would curl her toes or would it be an off center one, sloppy and wet that would leave her disappointed?_

"_I want to…I mean can I…is it ok if I…?" he stuttered, blood rising up his throat to fill his cheeks. Phil couldn't help but smile. He was so damned cute when he was flustered._

"_Just kiss me already, Crosby," she whispered, aware of the many eyes around them and that, despite the fact he had yet to play a game in the NHL, here at least he was already a superstar. _

_She could feel his hand tremble where he pressed it against her cheek and taste the warm saltiness of the butter that was on his popcorn as his lips gently, timidly pressed against hers. Gathering the cotton of his t-shirt in her fist she pulled him against her and deepened the kissed, and then, opening her lips, she invited him in. _


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Epic fail!"

Sid poked at his plate, food that had grown cold, while his teammates jeered and taunted him for his lack of game. It wasn't the first time and he was beginning to think it would definitely not be the last time he would fail so utterly and completely. The blood from his steak had run into his potatoes, turning them a sickening, and inedible, shade of pink. He thought maybe the green beans, even cold, might still be palatable but just as he speared one and lifted it to his mouth she appeared on Nealer's arm in that slate grey pinstriped pencil skirt with the sassy kick pleat and a tight black v-neck sweater. The fork fell from his hand and rattled noisily off of his plate.

"Ouch. Parles de sel dans la plaie," Dupers hissed sympathetically at his elbow. For his part Sid could not bring himself to speak, save to swear, multiple times and in multiple languages, under his breath.

"I'm guessing that means she didn't believe you," Kris added softly, reaching for Sid's hand which he snatched away.

"Obviously," he snapped, sneaking another look as James pushed her chair in, his hand lingering on her shoulder. Sid wanted to snap that hand off at the wrist and grind every bone in it to dust. "I went too fast," he added in a whisper, speaking mostly to himself. He'd known it when she'd driven her knee into his groin but she'd made it crystal fucking clear when she'd given him a long, disappointed look and then walked away from him without a word.

No, things had most definitely not gone the way that he'd planned.

"Time to grovel, non?" Pascal leaned his shoulder against his and Sid knew his friend was trying to encourage him but as he glanced down the table, all he could feel was the opposite.

"_You_ need to tell her," he snarled, turning towards Kris who took a sip of his white wine as he stared straight ahead; therefore diminishing the effect of Sid's fury.

"Non, mon ami, that is _your_ problem now," he said quietly before taking another sip of wine and then putting his glass down. "This is not gradeschool, ça va?" he added turning towards Sid's whose hands were curled into tight fists on the white linen tablecloth. "Do you think she will be impressed by passing notes, me trouves-tu, oui, ou non?" Kris shook his head almost indiscernibly smirked, and then went back to chasing the last morsel of veal ravioli around his plate. Sid continued to glare at him but, though he radiated fury, it seemingly had no affect on his teammate who finally stabbed the last stuffed pasta pocket, dipped it in the tomato vodka sauce and then chewed it slowly, savoring the flavors with obvious enjoyment. Sid growled out loud.

"He's right," Pascal sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder that might have looked like an innocent gesture but Sid felt his winger's thick fingers digging into his muscle. "You have to be the one to convince her. Maybe tomorrow night." Sid frowned, racking his brain for some reason that tomorrow would be a better time than having either one of his teammates doing it now and then he cursed loud enough that the table fell silent and every head swiveled in his direction.

"You have to excuse Creature," Kris announced, his hand coming to rest on Sid's other shoulder. "He just realized that he doesn't have a costume for Kennedy's party tomorrow."

The table immediately erupted in chatter, everyone talking about last year's costume or speculating on what the best costume would be this year. Sid stared at the now cold food on his plate. He'd be on his own again this year while most of his teammates would be wearing the kind of costume that announced they were in a couple; Romeo and Juliet, Mark Antony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde….

"_We_ could always go as Batman and Robin," Kris offered cheerily, quickly pushing his chair back and narrowly missing Sid's roundhouse swing. "Non? Dommage, j'ai les jambs pour des collants," he added with a smirk before reaching for a bread stick and heading towards the other end of the table where James and Phil were sitting with their heads close tighter, talking animatedly and wearing serious expressions.

"Perfect. They'll probably go as a cheerleader and football player," Sid grumbled, already imagining Phil in a short skirt and pig tails.

"Well if anyone here would look good in a Spartan costume," Pascal mused with a single raised eyebrow. It took Sid a moment but he finally remembered the movie 300 and just how little the main characters wore in it and made a face. "Well," his winger prompted, "do you want to remind her how much she wants to jump your bones or not?"

* * *

Only a couple of days before Halloween there weren't very many costumes left to choose from and James didn't want anything that involved his wearing a hat or mask that would mess his hair which ruled out the Woody and Jessie costumes she'd initially picked out. However with her hair up and wrapped around a not very convincing fake plastic dinosaur bone in nothing much more than a tiny green tank top and blue hot pants she made the perfect Pebbles to James's loin cloth clad Bam-Bam. Still, as good as James looked in his cheetah print loin cloth, her gaze was riveted on the bare chest of the crimson cloaked Spartan warrior with the tiny leather kilt.

"Kill me now," she whispered as she felt her ovaries explode.

"What's that, sugarlips?" James asked, draping his arm possessively around her shoulder. She looked up at him, his lop sided grin and his expertly messed coif and sighed.

"Nuthin', just wondering where the bar is, I'm thirsty," she replied, forcing a smile onto her face that she could hardly believe he would buy but as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead he moved into the crowd, towards the Keg that she could see clearly sitting on the counter of the kitchen. By the time she returned her attention to its previous locus; however, he was gone.

She told herself not to look, not to swing her head around desperately searching for a glimpse of that blood red cape, but without James's arm to anchor her she felt adrift, and turned a full circle before she caught another glimpse. This time it was his powerfully built muscular legs that seized her attention as he stood near Kris who was wearing either a Green Arrow or a Robin Hood costume that made her fingers itch to rip it off. The two of them reeked of sex, and if Sidney was telling her the truth, her body hadn't been lying to her the entire time.

"You could go speak with him," Pascal prodded, appearing at her side with a martini glass filled with pink liquid. Phil took a sip to whet her lips that seemed dry despite her lip gloss; grapefruit and vodka with lemon.

"I'm mad at him," she replied without taking her eyes off of Sidney's perfectly sculpted six-pack.

"Oui, je sais but…you cannot stay mad at him forever." She turned to tell his teammate that she could, and planned to, but his fake moustache and droopy musketeer outfit made her smile and the words died on her tongue. "Forgive him, you know you want to so you two can raise fat babies and live a good long life," he added with a wink.

"Porthos, is it?" she smirked, recognizing at least part of the line. Pascal twirled the end of his fake mustache and then made show of a deep, sweeping bow. "No, he humiliated me. I'm not just going to forgive him," she replied decidedly although another long look at Sid's bare chest made her want to, very much.

"Haven't you spent enough time apart daydreaming of one another?" he asked sincerely. She was about to concede the point when her Bam Bam reappeared at her elbow with a red solo cup of beer held out towards her.

"Oh you have one. More for me then," he grinned and upended the cup, emptying its entire contents into his mouth. Phil watched some of the liquid escape the corners of his mouth and drip down his neck. Had it been Sid's neck she felt sure she'd have experienced the overwhelming urge to lick it from his skin but she felt no such compunction with James. What she felt was closer to revulsion.

"As I said," Pascal whispered in her ear, "don't waste too much time. He's squirming on the hook already. Take my word for it."

She heard his admonition but decided to ignore it, at least for the time being. He'd made her feel foolish. She had a right to make him squirm.

"I love this song," she gushed in what she hoped was a plausible way, grabbing hold of James's arm and pulling him further into the living room. "Let's dance."

* * *

_Sidney Crosby didn't go to prom; he went to another kind of dance, the prospect combine for the NHL draft. He already knew where he was going to go but he went through the exercise anyway, the wind sprints, weight lifting, peddling the stationary bike until his lung burned. That had been his prom. _

_With the league having lost an entire season he'd actually planned to go to prom, but then the Océanic had gone through the playoffs and to the Memorial Cup instead. They'd lost but he'd still been named to the all star team of the tournament and its highest scorer which was almost like being crowned king of the prom, except that the closest thing he had to a prom Queen was Corey Perry who was named the MVP. _

_So he never got to ask Isabelle Bouchard with her freckles and her pixie cut. He never got to put a corsage on her wrist or stand awkwardly with her for photos on her parents' front porch, make out in the back of a limo or get sick in the foyer of the Days Inn hotel. _

_He'd forgotten about all that when he met Phil. He'd never thought about Isabelle Bouchard and her cute little button nose after that first day. Meeting Phil was like putting away childish things, boxing up toys and giving them away because you were too old for them now. Kissing Phil was better than crossing the stage to get his diploma, prom and being runner up in the Memorial Cup all rolled into one. Her soft body moving under his on the old, threadbare couch in her grandparents' basement was what he imagined winning the Stanley Cup would feel like. _

_He was excited and terrified all at the same time. His heart was beating so hard against his ribs he was sure she must be able to hear it. He could. It was deafening in his ears as if he'd just come off the ice after a double shift and so were the groans he uttered every time she shifted beneath him or pressed up against him. _

_Sid did his best not to hump her leg like his grandmother's yappy little fluffball did every time they went to visit but it wasn't easy; nor was figuring out what to do with his hands. He knew what he wanted to do but every time he inched them towards the peaks of her breasts he lacked the courage to go that last inch and then she would wriggle beneath him and he'd have to concentrate on not blowing his load in his pants. _

_He thought he'd go cross eyed or faint from a lack of blood to the head on his shoulders when she'd scooted out from beneath him and pulled her top over her head. Sure he'd thumbed through his fair share of Playboys and had spent more time than he should have in a bathroom or two with a copy of Penthouse forum clutched in one hand but this had been…different. Up until that moment anything that had been a part of any real fumbling had taken place in the dark and there was something about seeing those satin cups barely covering the ivory mounds of her breasts with the nipples poking at the fabric, practically begging to be played with._

_Sid's mouth became suddenly as dry as the Sahara, despite the fact they'd been swapping spit for the better part of an hour, as he watched her reach behind her back and undo the clasp of her bra. He brushed his hands along his thighs, sure his hands must be sweaty as she shrugged first one strap over her bare shoulder and then the other until only the way her arms crossed in front of her chest kept the cream coloured satin cups in place. _

"_Sidney Crosby, are you blushing?" she teased. He didn't bother to confirm what was patently obvious. He could feel the heat suffusing his entire face. "Awww," she purred, wearing a playful grin as she let the material drop from her arms, "we'll just have to even things up," she added, reaching for the hem of his shirt._ _God knows he wanted to. All of the blood in his body had pooled in his lap and this moment was one he'd dreamed about the entire summer and yet instead of hearing a voice in his head telling him to do it, all he could hear was his father's voice in his ears telling him he didn't have time for girls, didn't have time for distractions. "Sidney?" she asked softly, her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth as she ran her fingers up over the ridges of his abdominals. _

"_I…I didn't…I ummmm, I'm not prepared," he muttered, sliding backwards, away from her. She frowned, then she pouted. _

"_I won't bite…**much**, I promise," she teased. Sid stared at her pert breasts each with a pink tip like a cherry on top of a sundae that he longed to taste. _

"_I…I didn't bring anything…I didn't…we can't," he stammered, getting uneasily to his feet. He swayed, momentarily dizzy with no blood helping his brain to process. She tried to frown as she crossed her arms over her chest but he could see the shock and confusion in her eyes. It was the same mixture of emotions that were making his heart beat like a he had a dozen pigeons taking flight in his chest._

"_You **can't** be serious," she hissed, reaching for her shirt and holding it front of her, right up to her chin, like a shield."Oh c'mon, you can't just...I mean there's other things we could do if you don't want to do that," she offered but he kept backing out of the room.  
_

"_I'm sorry," he whispered as he turned to leave. She would never know just how much. _

* * *

He was watching her. He was standing there, in the midst of a hive of activity, people dancing and talking animatedly, drinking and laughing and he was just _standing_ there, _staring_ at her.

Well at them, at her and James, where they were slowly rocking to the rhythm of some kind of power ballad. It wasn't a song she knew, not that she could have paid attention to the lyrics anyway. Not with him staring at her like that, like he was contemplating ripping James limb from limb just to get through to her.

"Wannanotherdrink?" James slurred into her ear, the one hand that had been resting on the small of her back slid further down until his long fingers were cupping her ass. It was almost too bad, she thought, that Sid couldn't see his teammate taking advantage of her short shorts.

"No, I'm good," she smiled up at him, into his bleary eyes. He'd had enough, more than enough to be useful. Not that she planned on his taking her home but he was far past the point of that now.

"You're pretty, y'know?" he grinned down at her in that too big way that boys do when they're three sheets to the wind. She waited, half expecting an 'I love you man' to follow but he did one better. He used both of his hands to press her hips into his and proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, just exactly what he thought of her in that moment.

"You are too," she smiled up at him and ruffled the back of his hair with her hand.

"Hey, hey watch the hair!" He literally pushed her away and stumbled, weaved his way over to the bar, behind which there was a mirror. She stood there and gaped as he primped and preened like an award winning Tortoiseshell cat. Phil took a deep breath, sucking the air in through her nose before blowing it out, slowly, through her mouth as she tried to decide between two evils – continuing to play with James despite the fact that he didn't make her heart race or her palms get clammy or give in to Sidney's force field.

Turning slowly, she saw him still watching her intently, like a lion waiting in the weeds, watching the gazelles at the watering hole. She got the distinct impression that the moment she made a move away from James Sid would pounce and she knew that, not unlike the gazelle, when he did, she would be utterly defenseless.

The gazelle had one defense, speed. Phil knew she could just leave, except he would probably follow her and considering that she still felt like fighting, if they were alone she knew that she might say something she couldn't take back. Ignoring him seemed unlikely. Her only other choice was to do something truly self destructive and completely immature.

With his gaze still riveted on her and the angel on her shoulder berating her in a high shrill voice like the one only dogs can hear except this was for her alone, Phil strode purposefully over to where James was now chatting amiably with Kennedy's girlfriend, slid her arm around his waist and went up on tip toe to whisper in his ear.

James turned, a slow, almost sleepy, but decidedly sexy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He raised his eyebrows, as if he didn't quite believe her but his hand, with its long, slim fingers cupped her chin anyway and tilted her lips up to his anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

_As always thanks to Mel for her editing and witty comments. I will have to send you more batteries for the next chapter. _

_Warning, I highly suggest reading this when you are alone!_

**Chapter 13**

A puck rang off the glass just above his shoulder. Tanger ducked. Pascal flinched. Sid just glared at the man holding the stick he knew that the puck had been shot with.

"Dick," he muttered out loud, not really making any attempt to keep his voice low.

"You _did_ break his nose," Kris pointed out. Sid couldn't help but smile as he surveyed the damage he'd caused, the two black eyes and the new bump across the bridge of Nealer's beak only partially hidden by a piece of surgical tape.

"Fucker deserved it," he said with a smirk as he turned to glide down the ice.

"I'm pretty sure it had more to do with her goading you than any choice Nealer may or may not have made. I mean, he was three sheets to the fucking wind, _aaaaand_ I'm pretty sure he thought she was fair game. I mean, obviously he's pretty fucking clear on where you stand about that _now_," Kris added, tapping the blade of his stick against Sid's shins.

"Yeah well, fat lot of good it did me." The satisfaction he'd felt seeing James' suffering ebbed as he glanced around the boards. There were familiar faces, fans that he saw at a lot of practices, but she had become a fixture at the rink and now Phil was nowhere in sight.

"I have to say, the two of you…I don't get it," Pascal began softly. Sid turned to glare at his teammate but the older man didn't seem to take any notice. "You don't seem to actually like one another a whole lot," he shrugged and continued to skate beside his line mate. "Well she didn't exactly fall into your arms after you laid one on Nealer," he pointed out. Sid winced, dropped his head and skated away.

She'd harangued him, called him names, most of which had been the kind of childish things that you'd hear in the schoolyard, but some had been hurtful. He'd been called a pussy and worse by men twice his size but there had been something in her eyes when she'd spat those words at him that still stung. He hadn't really thought his actions through, hadn't really planned on her swooning in his arms and declaring him to be her white knight but he definitely had not expected her to treat him like he'd thrown a baseball through her window, pulled the head off her favorite doll and melted all of her crayons either.

"I've told her I want her. I think I've made it crystal fucking clear I don't want her to be with anyone else, what more do I have to fucking do?" He turned to find Kris keeping up with him, just as he'd known the quiet defenseman would.

"Clearly not that," Kris chuckled softly, his fey grin not fading as Sid glared at him. "Women like to be romanced, flowers, chocolates, not beat over the head and dragged into a cave," he added in a more serious tone though there was still a playful glint in his dark eyes.

"I think you might be wrong about that in this case," Sid snorted. He'd tried to play the long game with Phil before, only to find out she'd been waiting for him to make a big move the entire time.

"Moi? Wrong about women? Je ne pense pas que ce soit possible," Kris chuckled as he gave Sid a playful shove that sent him sprawling, arms windmilling, into the boards. Kris was deceptively strong, a fact that was lost on many of their opponents until he did something like that. "I'm telling you mon ami," Tanger added, giving Sid a hand up, "when it comes to women, tu m'écouter, je sais de quoi je parle."

"Yeah, because everything's worked out just fucking great so far," Sid grumbled, not bothering to wipe the snow from his uniform.

"No, _you_ didn't listen and you're right, look how well that's worked out for you."

* * *

Phil stared at the screen in front of her and chewed on her nails. She hated giving up and if she sent this email then she would be doing just that. On the other hand, more of the same was not exactly something she wanted to sign up for. Not after the shouting match they'd got into in Kennedy's driveway the night before.

She'd wanted him to do something, make some kind of dramatic gesture. He'd done exactly that, so why was she ready to run away just when she was getting what she wanted?

Because what she had wanted and what was happening now was not at all the same thing, not the same animal at all she mused dejectedly as she read over the e-mail she'd written and re-written, trying to get the wording just right.

She fumed as she got up to pace the small room. All of this was _his_ fault. She and Sidney could have had something fun, something casual between two consenting adults but _no, _he'd had to blow it all out of proportion. She turned on her heel and strode back towards the window that looked up towards the big house. There were no lights on. He was playing tonight and if she was doing her job she would be there instead of in this little cottage trying to stir up the courage to make her escape.

"All I ever wanted was a bit of fun," she hissed to no one as she pulled her hair out of its pony tail, dragged her fingers through it and then put the elastic back in. James would be fun, there was no doubt in her mind that the lanky forward would be able to provide the kind of no strings attached sex that she'd come here to find, but not now. Not after last night. He wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer but it hadn't taken him long to put two and two together and come up with five. Maybe now he could provide the punishing kind of…Phil closed her eyes and shuddered at the vision that filled her mind, except what her imagination produced was not a vision of James pressing her up against a wall.

She'd woken up in the middle of the night calling out for Sidney, her body wracked with spasms from an orgasm brought on by a dream that had felt so real she'd expected to find him there instead of the empty bed she was alone in. Still trying to catch her breath and with the sheet wrapped around her she'd crept to the window to look across the garden at the big house. His light had been on and in the middle of the night as well. It was possible they were suffering from the same delusion; that anything remotely resembling a relationship between them might actually have a chance of working.

Phil paced back across the room and stared at the computer screen. If she pressed the button they'd never have to have another awkward moment again. But then again, if she sent that email she might never know and _that_ might just kill her.

But that look in his eyes as he'd strode purposefully towards where she and Nealer had been kissing did not portend anything easy, simple and straightforward. That look in his eyes had been all about possession, ownership, domination.

Phil bit down on her bottom lip. It wasn't as if the idea of being at his mercy didn't appeal. In fact, the thought of it made her tremble. It made her pulse speed up and her mouth get dry. The problem was she liked the idea a little _too _much.

She'd never pictured Sidney that way. The Sidney she thought that she'd be spending time with was the dorky, nervous Sidney who was prone to both blushing and stammering around her. She'd never seen this dark side before, but she couldn't see the Sid who had put Neal down with one punch and then dragged her outside by her wrist, signing up to be just to be used like a battery operated toy. Dark Sidney didn't seem like the kind of guy for tickle fights and sneaking out in the morning without a word.

She'd been so sure she wanted to keep it light but now she knew, even without having yet sampled the wares, that she would happily become addicted once she had.

Turning away from the computer Phil reached for the remote that was balanced on the back of the couch. She aimed it at the small television in the corner of the room and turned it on. She flicked through the channels, rapid fire, until she found the game. The camera was panning the bench and he was there, sitting astride the low wall in front of the bench, wearing a grimly determined expression. She licked her lips.

Oh yes, he would be a crack lollipop. Of that she was not in doubt. She only had to decide if she was willing to lose herself just to satisfy her curiosity

* * *

"You didn't even try for that pass!" Sid shoved the taller man ahead of him as the team shuffled despondently into the room. Neal reached back and easily batted Sid's hand away.

"I'm not suicidal, for one," Nealer replied, dragging his helmet off and shaking his sweat soaked mane out like a dog would just out of the rain, "and that pass was two steps ahead of me."

"You'd have been there if Geno passed it," Sid grumbled, mostly under his breath as he dropped his own helmet down onto the bench and started to drag his jersey off over his head.

"If Geno had passed it, there would have been something on it," James corrected him. Sid glared at his teammate. James smirked. Sidney's hands curled into fists at his sides. If Nealer wanted to go for round three he'd be happy to oblige.

"Now, now girls, let's save it for the third," the older and wiser Pascal patted both young men on their backs as he passed by. Unlike most of the men in the room, Dupers was wearing a smile. He'd scored in both the first and the second. Sidney knew he should be pleased with the assists but as happy as he was for his teammates to score, it wasn't the same as putting the biscuit in the basket himself "And it's not his fault she's not here," Pascal added as he dragged his jersey over his head and reached back to drape it on the peg behind him.

Sid stared at a spot on the rug between his skates. He knew that was true and he also knew that his own head was not entirely in the game. Every time he went out for a face-off he found himself scanning the crowd, searching for her face.

"I'll have to talk to her when I get home," he muttered. He could hear the contemptuous sound that Pascal made deep in his throat and frowned.

"Figured out what you're going to say yet?" his friend asked. Sid made a face, reached down and, unnecessarily, began tearing tape from his sock.

"I'll figure something out," he snapped.

"Uh-huh," Pascal snorted before elbowing him in the ribs. "You need me to come and stand outside, feed you lines so you don't screw it up? I mean, screw it up _more_," he added with a snort. Sid clenched his jaw and tossed the wadded up tape at the logo in the middle of the room.

"Fuck you Dupers."

* * *

The door crashed into the wall and she managed, just, to stifle a scream of surprise when she turned from the late night news program she'd been watching to watch Sidney nearly rip it from its hinges as he slammed it shut behind him. She started to ask him what in fuck he thought he was doing but he shook his head, once, adamantly, silencing her.

"Don't say a fucking word. Don't even open your fucking mouth unless it's so I can stick my dick into it," he growled as he crossed the room, dropped his jacket behind him and loosened his tie. Phil blinked at the stranger in front of her, unable to assimilate the actions she was currently observing and all of the avoidance she'd been witness to up until now.

She gasped when he wrapped her ponytail in his hand and pulled her head back. Not because it hurt, but because it hurt so _good_. Eyes the colour of burnt ochre gazed into hers' and dared her to deny him but just as she knew she would, Phil was already melting inside as his mouth claimed her own.

Grabbing two fistfuls of his dress shirt she pulled in opposite directions, sending buttons pinging off of the walls and furniture, like they were standing in the middle of a firing range. While she slowly pressed his shirt back over his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of his smooth, warm skin beneath her fingertips, he tugged her head further back and she felt his teeth sink into her neck.

Closing her eyes, she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle a moan. He hadn't done enough to deserve that kind of encouragement, not yet, she decided as she dragged her nails up his back, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make him shiver.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered in her ear, his thick fingers digging into her thighs as he easily lifted her off of her feet. Phil wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his equally thick neck and grinned at him.

"Is that right?" she purred. His eyes narrowed as he backed her against the wall a little harder than was strictly necessary.

"I said _don't fucking talk_," he growled. Then he kissed her, _hard_, while he rubbed what had to be, by now, a painful erection against her. Her pajama bottoms served as a barrier, but only barely. It seemed her memory had not served her ill after all this time and she gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of all of him trying to fit inside of her. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised her breathlessly, his hands cupping her ass as he turned and headed back into the living room. She looked longingly over his shoulder towards the darkened bedroom and its comfortable queen sized bed.

She blinked at him, a mixture of surprise, shock and amusement that made it difficult to keep a straight face as he put her down behind the couch and reached for his belt. Part of her wanted to clap, the hammering of her heart telling her she was excited, but as he shoved his suit pants down past his powerful thighs it was nervous laughter that erupted from her throat. Sid's gaze snapped up to meet hers and he did not look amused, or playful. He looked…unhappy.

"Something funny?" he hissed and one of his hands was suddenly, and painfully, encircling one of her wrists. He bent it up until she hissed, narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Better," he whispered and then pressed his body against hers and kissed her again, his other hand snaking up beneath her pajama top.

This time she could not suppress the moan she breathed into his mouth as he twisted her nipple between his fingers. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was straining towards him wanting to be stroked, pinched, twisted and licked. Phil groaned as he kissed his way down her neck and, cupping her breast in his hand, raised her nipple to his mouth. His full, soft lips closed around the tender peak and she swore under her breath.

* * *

He hadn't exactly planned on this happening in quite this way, but as Sid transferred his mouth to her other tit and licked his way around the pink tip he knew there was no turning back now. His dick ached painfully but beside the physical discomfort if he backed out now he wouldn't just be suffering from a major case of blue balls. She'd probably never let him near her again and he probably would never have the courage to try this twice.

He always hated to lose but something especially dark and powerful had overtaken him tonight. As he'd raced through the wet dark streets and by the time he'd walked down the garden path to her door he'd known he wouldn't leave without having her. He just wasn't sure she'd still be speaking to him in the morning and he wasn't sure he'd blame her. Some of the things coming out of his mouth sounded like things Max would say. He'd definitely never said anything like he was growling in her ear now as he discarded her pajama top and spun her to face the back of the couch.

He felt almost possessed as he kicked her feet apart and yanked her pajama bottoms down. He knew, somewhere in his fevered brain, that the first time was not supposed to be like this but that didn't stop him from pinning both of her arms behind her back and slamming into her without asking permission or giving any thought to using protection.

They both groaned in unison as he slid himself up into her snatch, the angle making it a tight squeeze that had him seeing stars. He dug his fingers deep enough into the smooth skin of her hip that he knew he was leaving a mark but he couldn't help it. He was still half afraid she was going to run away. Maybe that's why he was channeling Max. He'd never known the outlandish Frenchman to be anything but confident when it came to women.

"I'm going to making you fucking scream and then you're going to suck my dick dry," he grunted as he slowly drew his cock out, gleaming with her juices and then equally slowly screwed himself back into her tight cunt.

"God yesss," she sighed, pushing her hips back to meet his next thrust. Sid squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he wanted to do was blow his load immediately like some kind of blushing middle school kid but after all of the images that had played through his mind on his way here combined with how tight and wet she was, that was going to require some concentration. At least, he thought as he slid his hand up to the middle of her back and pressed her forward, he didn't have to watch her facial expressions this way. If he had to look into her eyes…. "Damn Crosby…mmmm, oh fuck yeah, right there," she moaned and his knees nearly buckled. There was something about bad words coming out of such a pretty mouth that made his balls ache.

"You like that huh?" he asked a little breathlessly as he drove his hips forward, slamming his dick deeper inside of her.

"Your cock is huuuuge," she moaned, going up on tip toe, her toes curling in the carpet, giving him a different angle, a longer, straighter thrust. Sid groaned as he bottomed out inside of her. "Fuck yeah, fuck me with your big dick." He felt his balls pull up tight and knew that if he didn't do something he was going to fucking disgrace himself. Sliding his hand down over her hip he reached around and slid his fingers down into her wet folds.

She bucked back against him and cried out. His cry came close on the heels of hers as her body convulsed around his. There was a moment he was sure he was going to black out and a longer moment when he wasn't sure if he'd already let go or not but then, as he began to move again, making short, hard strokes all he knew was that he was still hard and now she was the one that was puffing like a steam engine.

"You close?" he asked, the pads of his fingers making tight circles against her clit.

"Mmmm, not yet," she replied through what sounded like clenched teeth. "Do it harder…oh yeah, fucking right there," she instructed breathlessly. Sid let go of her wrists, dug his fingers into the flesh of her hip and slammed his dick home. "Oh fuck yeah, harder! Fuck me harder! Fuck me with your big fat dick!" she cried, her head tipped back so her hair fell down her back in dark chocolate waves. Sid buried his nose in it. There it was; those damned green apples.

"I want you to cum," he hissed at her, pressing down on her clit until she moaned. "I want to feel your cum oozing all over my dick," he added, sliding his other hand from her hip and up to cup one tit, felt her nipple harden in the palm of his hand. She let out a strangled cry as she began to grind against him, pressing her ass into his hips. He made fast, hard thrusts, barely keeping the head of his dick inside of her before slamming it as deep as he could. On every downward swing she began to whimper.

She was almost there.

* * *

He twisted her nipple with one hand and stroked her clit with the other and Phil saw stars. It felt like he was filling every single solitary millimeter of her and then some, stretching her in every direction in the best possible way. She'd imagined this moment so many times but it had never been like this and yet she wasn't disappointed that there were no candles lit or soft music playing. She'd always had an inkling that she'd like it rough but she'd never had the stones to ask any of the guys she'd been with to do more than give her the odd playful spanking. When he'd pulled her hair she thought she'd cum right then and there but when he'd pulled her arms up behind her all she'd known was she didn't want it to stop.

"Spank me," she begged breathlessly. He stopped moving, just for a moment and though she couldn't see it she could imagine the quizzical look on his face. "Just do it. _Spank_ me," she repeated more firmly. His hand slid from beneath her breast and she closed her eyes and held her breath.

The sound seemed to fill the room as his palm came into contact with her ass. It stung, deliciously and Phil felt her muscles squeeze down around his dick. "Again, but _harder_" she whispered. Her eyes stayed closed but this time, when the flat of his hand came into contact with her skin she cried out, her entire body convulsed and it felt like every atom in her body was going to implode.

She could barely stand and was glad that his arm was still around her waist or she might have fallen. She collapsed onto the back of the couch and lay there, shaking with tears squeezing out of her eyes. She'd had orgasms before but none of them, not even the battery operated induced ones had felt like this.

"Holy mother fucking shit," she panted, a grin slowly creeping across her face.

"Is that…is that good or bad?" he asked and she snickered. Only Crosby would not recognize an earth shattering orgasm.

"Let me return the favor," she said as she slowly turned and got down onto her knees in front of him, "and then you can tell me."


	14. Chapter 14

_I know you've been waiting patiently so this is sizzling hot to make up for it._

**Chapter 14**

He stared up at the ceiling, the - what did they call it - popcorn ceiling that looked more like meringue than popcorn. He stared up at the ceiling and listened to her slow, shallow breathing. She was lying, curled up next to him, her cheek resting half on his shoulder and half on his chest. There was a little puddle of warm drool forming just beneath the corner of her mouth. There was a niggling little voice in the back of his head telling him that he should be grossed out but he wasn't. Other, more foreign things had happened in this room, a little drool was practically inane.

She shifted in her sleep and curled her leg around his, tucking her foot beneath his ankle. Sid looked down to see her wearing a soft, satisfied sort of smile that hardly came close to matching the big, goofy one he was wearing.

His body had the heavy, satisfied feeling that it often had after a win, as if he'd scored a hat trick and had a handful of assists. He wasn't sure he would be able to walk even if he'd had to. Not that he wanted to go anywhere; he was pretty damn happy right where he was as long as she stayed asleep. If she woke up and wanted more he thought his dick might either run away and hide or fall off from overuse.

Again, not that he was complaining. It had been a kind of marathon, sort of like the boot camp that the Pens players often attended pre-season, leaving him exhausted but kind of proud of himself as well. A history of mostly one night stands and only a couple of short lived relationships had left him lazy in bed, used to taking care of his own needs in the kind of efficient way that resembled a short shift out on the ice. He suspected that the kind of women he'd been sharing his bed with didn't complain because they were happy just to be there, which, in truth, had been the reason he'd chosen them. It was better than taking care of his needs himself, but only just. He had never experienced a night like this.

After she'd given him head long enough to make him dizzy with lack of blood to the brain they'd fucked energetically on the couch, and the living room floor after which they'd taken a break long enough to eat some cold pizza from the fridge. That had ended up in sex on the counter and on the kitchen table that had been loud enough he was sure he'd be getting funny looks from the neighbors.

That had spilled into the hallway when they'd made a dash for the bedroom. He'd had her against the wall, and then up against the door and then lastly with her holding onto the posts of the old fashioned four poster bed while he slammed his cock into her mercilessly until neither one of them had been able to stand up a moment longer. They'd fallen into the bed exhausted, but laughing.

He'd never done this either, the cuddling, the basking in the afterglow. It certainly made a change from either dismissing his bed partner immediately after the act or slipping out of their beds like some kind of cat burglar. It had been a while since he'd spent the night with someone and it wasn't something he usually enjoyed. That usually entailed an awkward choosing of sides of the bed and being woken up half a dozen times by the fish out of water flopping and rolling around of his bed partner. Despite all of that, he _had_ gotten used to Duper's snoring and he kind of liked the feeling of her warm body tucked against his side.

Sid stroked his fingertips along her side and down over her hip. She sighed in her sleep and her arm, the one that had been tucked in between their bodies, slid over his stomach. He was surprised to find that his body stirred at even this gentlest of touches, that it still could, and he groaned. She opened one eye and smiled up at him.

"Funny boy," she whispered, her fingertips brushing lightly over his stomach, down over his belly button and under the sheets. "Mmm, what have we here?"

"You don't…you probably shouldn't. I think it's dead," he groaned as her hand wrapped around his dick. It pulsed, like it was almost alive.

"It doesn't _feel_ dead," she grinned, her fist stroking upwards, pulling gently on his Johnson. "Actually, it feels kind of happy," she added as her body slid down the sheet taking the quilt with her. Sid groaned but made neither a move nor a noise to stop her as she licked her way up from the base of his dick, around the head and then slid her lips over it and down. Instead he reached out and gathered her dark hair in his hand but not to control her movements, which were perfection in and of themselves, but only so he could watch her.

From the very first time he'd seen her he'd wanted her. He'd taken other girls to bed that reminded him of her but it had never been her eyes looking up at him while she licked her way up his dick like it was made of chocolate. It had never been her smile that looked down at him as she settled herself over him, her hand firmly holding his cock while she slowly sheathed him in her warm, wet pussy. Every other woman paled in comparison to the one that slowly moved over him now, her body glowing in the dark like something carved from ice, ice that melted over him, whose lips tasted of faintly of orange juice and lip gloss.

"Jesus Crosby, don't just lie there and think of fucking England," she grinned, her dark hair fanning around his face as she bent to capture his lips, "fuck me!" His hands found her waist and he easily pushed his body up off of the mattress and his dick further into her gash so that she moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh yesssss," she hissed as her breasts swung tantalizingly close to his mouth while her nails dug into his shoulders deep enough that it was painful, yes, but made his cock pulse and his sack tighten, pulling up so that he knew that he wouldn't last. Still with one hand on her ass he grabbed at the pale swell of her tit and guided its pink nub towards his mouth, used his teeth and tongue to capture it and make her cry out. Her face was suffused with light, though the only light in the room came from the moon outside. Still, she was lit up like a candle and when those long eyelashes of hers' fluttered open and she looked down at him, his chest swelled.

"You're so fucking beautiful. I fucking love you," he told her truthfully, the words falling from his mouth before he could take them back. It should have been the right time. They were making love, finally giving into all of those urges that had made it nearly impossible for them to communicate with one another and she seemed happy.

Or she had, until he'd let those words had escaped his lips. She had stopped moving and some of that glow disappeared from her skin and from behind her eyes and her smile had faded. He should take back those words, say something to lighten the suddenly heavy mood in the room but as he looked up at her, even with her smiled fading and her expression having become guarded he could not. He would not.

* * *

"It's okay," she told him, forcing a weak smile onto her face as she let her hair fall over at least half of her face so she could hide behind it. "The things we say in the sack, am I right?" she tried to give him a playful punch in the shoulder but her fist slid off the sweat that beaded on his skin.

"So you're going to say you don't feel _anything_?" he asked, his voice deep and gruff as he used the advantage his size and power gave him to drop her onto her back, his cock still buried deep inside of her.

"I'm just saying let's not get all seriously ahead of ourselves," she tried to chuckle but knew the grin she wore was a nervous one that didn't reach her eyes.

"I'll ask you again," he growled, reaching to dig his fingers into the back of her knees. He pressed her legs wide and then back towards her body. His dick, by default, slid deeper into her and she moaned like a good little ten dollar whore. "Tell me you feel nothing, nothing at all for me."

Every single solitary muscle in his body was stretched taught, like an elastic band having reached the point of full extension. It was either snap or…. Sid rotated his hips, pulled them back and then slowly, very, _verrrrrry_ slowly, screwed his way even deeper inside of her.

Phil whimpered. By now he had to know she liked it rough. By now he had to have figured out that she wanted to be punished like a bad little girl. She would give him that but as she turned her head to the side, she was determined that he would not wring the truth from her.

"It's not _nothing_," she sighed as he drew his hips back and repeated the long, deliciously slow process of filling her, stretching her, again. "I like you, you know that." She allowed herself one glance up into the dark, storm filled gaze of the man stretched over her and then she screwed her eyes shut and turned away. "Mmmmm, yeah baby, fuck me like that." He growled and a shudder ran down her spine and straight into her clit.

Phil licked her lips. Denying him was like waving a red flag in front of a bull and she knew it. When Sidney Crosby wanted something there were very few people on earth that could defy him.

"You…, you _bitch_," he swore softly, his grip suddenly switching to arms, pinning them at her sides and using the rest of his body, his weight and size to pin her to the bed.

"Oh yeah baby, talk dirty to momma," she purred, turning to look up at him, trusting that her moment of weakness had passed and that she could meet his angry gaze with a steely one of her own.

"You just want to be fucked, is that it?" he growled, his entire body poised above hers', every muscle, every sinew and fiber standing out like he'd been carved that way. She wished her arms were free so she could run her fingers over his and follow the veins and sinews up to his wide, round shoulders.

"Don't you _want_ to fuck me…Crosby?" She watched the veins throb in his forehead, his jaw set in a strong, straight line as he ground his teeth together. God, it was like baiting a bear. Like she was the little dog nipping and barking around his feet knowing that one swipe of his mighty paw could send her flying, could break her. The idea made her breath catch in her throat. His answering growl and the way his hips slammed into her forced that breath free along with a long, satisfied groan. "Oh yeah baby, just like that," she sighed, licking her lips as she looked up to meet the fury in his eyes.

"Is that how you like it?" he asked, slamming his hips forward so hard she heard the bed skip across the old hard wood floor.

"No. Do it harder," she dared him. His nostrils flared and she would have willingly sworn on a stack of bibles that she actually saw flames flicker behind his eyes. This time when his hips rocked forward it was her body that slid back across the bed until she felt no mattress beneath her shoulders. "Harder," she repeated and this time, as he slowly pulled his hips back he let go of her arms, though she could still feel the impression his fingers had made in her skin.

"You asked for it," he reminded her in a whisper that was part growl and part threat and made her fallopian tubes do the Merengue. His thick fingers pressed her thighs as far apart as they would go and then some as his hips swung forward again and met her own with a wet slapping sound. Phil's back arched off of the bed as she dug her fingers into the quilt and she cried out his name.

She felt like her body had come apart, been torn to pieces and then been scattered into the cosmos. She felt like she was no longer in her body but watching him fuck her into the mattress from somewhere near the ceiling. She could see every muscle in his back bunch as he slammed into her and the resultant grin growing on her face as she got what she'd always dreamed off.

Phil dug her fingers into his shoulders, dragged her nails down his back and he roared like a lion, his back arching as she felt him pump jet after jet of hot cum inside of her. Her body was quaking, shaking from the strength of the orgasm and she was half laughing and half crying as the weight of his entire body came to rest over hers.

"Was that so fucking hard?" she whispered into his ear. He grunted but when he turned to face her that look was back, that sort of limpid softness in his eyes and her heart swelled again, filling her chest painfully. "Don't," she whispered, touching her lips to his.

"Phil…," he began but she shook her head, as much as she could with the full weight of him pressing her down into the mattress.

"Just let it be…for now, okay?" she whispered. His eyes narrowed and those wings began to beat in the pit of her stomach again; part fear and part excitement. He grunted again and rolled off of her and onto his side, with his back to her. Phil formed her body against his, tucking her cheek against the warm back of his shoulder where her nails had shredded his pale skin. "Stay," she whispered.

"What's the point?" he grumbled, his body so still she could barely tell he was breathing.

"Because I asked you to," she whispered and pressed her lips to the open wounds she'd left in his skin. He sighed, she felt his whole body fill with air and then let it go and then she felt him relax into her and she closed her own eyes and concentrated on the feeling of his heart beating beneath the palm of her hand.

* * *

It was the smell of something baking that first woke him. The last time he'd woken to that particularly homey smell his mother had been visiting and that thought had him swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scanning the floor for his clothes. It was only as his feet hit the cold floor that his still sleep fogged brain recalled that he was not in his own bed and visions of the night before played through his imagination.

The scent of sex still hung heavy in the air but when he turned he found the bed behind him empty, the sheets tangled in the middle of the bed but no Phil lying there. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he yawned and headed down the hallway towards the living room.

He found his boxer briefs and pulled them on and then turned towards the source of the warm, comforting smell filling the air. A tin of blueberry muffins sat on the top of the stove, still hot to the touch and there was fresh black coffee just hissing as it dripped into the pot. Taking a muffin and juggling it from one hand to the other, Sid headed towards the only other sound in the small cottage, water running.

The shower door was made of pebbled glass but he didn't need to see her clearly to follow the curves of her body that his hands had already mapped. Taking a single bite from the muffin before setting it aside, Sid slipped out of his boxer briefs and slid the shower door aside, allowing all the heat and steam to envelop him as he stepped into the tub behind her.

Phil didn't turn at the sound of the door sliding open, nor did she react as he slid his hands down her waist and settled on her hips. She only reached forward and took the shampoo bottle from the shower caddy and handed it back to him.

"Make yourself useful," she instructed and, without argument, he took the bottle and squeezed a quarter sized dollop of the creamy substance into the palm of his hand. Taking her already wet hair in one hand he slowly and methodically worked the shampoo through her hair while she tipped her face up into the stream. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes resting like butterflies on her cheeks. His body stirred and a slow, sexy smile pulled at the corners of her full mouth. "Mmm, do you ever get tired?" she purred, tipping her head forward to rinse the shampoo from her hair before she leaned forward and spread her fingers against the subway tile.

Sid bit into her shoulder, barely stifling a groan as his cock nudged its way between her thighs, finding its own way there now as if from long practice. The soft swell of her hips filled his hands and her ass pressed against his thighs as he slowly screwed his way into her, mindful that they were likely both tender from the energetic activity of the night before.

She sighed as he reached the end of her, as she pressed back against him to be sure that she took all of him and he pressed his forehead against the nape of her neck and answered with a gasp. Of all of the women he had been with, and he had long ago lost count, none had fit him this tightly, this perfectly, as if she had been made to sheath him. He barely registered when her fingers laced with his and led his fingers to her slick mound, sliding them down into her valley, pressed them against her clit. He might have moaned her name as the walls of her cunt squeezed tighter around him as together they stroked the centre of her pleasure, as she whimpered when his hips pulled back until he was only teasing her entrance, barely keeping it open before he slowly worked his way back inside.

"Fuckingjesuschristalmightyfu ckinggod you're tight," he whispered, his lips brushing over her shoulder blade as she pressed the soft flesh of her ass back against him, her body urging his to find the end of her, to press all of him into all of her.

"Do you like that baby?" she asked, leading his hand upwards, over the slight swell of her stomach and up to cradle the weight of her breast. If he replied at all it was unintelligible as she urged him to squeeze her tit, to pinch her nipple and twist it until she gasped out loud, her head tilting backwards until he could kiss the corner of her mouth, twine the tip of his tongue with hers.

She was on her tiptoes, her ass pressed high against him as he drove his cock as deep into her pussy as the angle would allow but it was not enough. He wanted all of her, wanted to be buried deeper inside of her. Pushing the shower door open with one hand he lifted her out of the tub with the other as she let out a squeak of surprise.

He set her down on the counter, but two or three strokes told him that this was not the angle he wanted either and so, with his cock still deep in her pussy and his arm around her waist he lowered her to the bathmat, her ankles locked around him and with a long, low groan, settled himself balls deep in her. With his lips on the curve of her neck he breathed through the urge to let himself go before he moved again. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up, his muscles straining with the effort, until he could look down and watch himself disappear, inch by inch, inside of her glistening, pink snatch.

With some effort, he raised his gaze from where their bodies were now firmly joined and locked his gaze with hers before he pulled his hips back and slowly repeated the motion. Phil bit down on her bottom lip but that did little to muffle the whimper that escaped from her throat.

"Tell me you like it," he insisted. She licked her lips and smiled up at him.

"I do, I fucking love getting fucked," she replied huskily. Sid pulled his hips back until just the head of his cock was nudging her entrance. She whimpered again.

"And me?" he asked, his entire body straining to hold his position, his brain screaming at him to just fuck her already. Her dark eyes flashed a warning and she sneered.

"I like you, especially when you fuck me hard," she purred. Sid allowed himself another inch, enough to draw a strangled cry from her throat.

"I think I'm the best you've ever had," he growled. She rolled her eyes and he backed out until he was barely inside of her at all. "I don't think anyone's ever made you feel like this," he hissed at her. She stared defiantly up at him.

"Don't flatter yourself Crosby. A good fuck is just a good….ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" She cried out very suddenly, her back bowing her eyes squeezing shut and her head tilting back as he drove his cock home, hard and fast.

"Say that again," he hissed, driving his hips forward. "Tell me again how this is just like any other fuck." Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt her muscles squeezing around him, tightening, until he could barely breathe, was seconds from exploding. "Tell me!" he growled, his lips a breath away from hers'.

"_Yesss_, damn your fucking eyes, _yesss_, you fuck like you fucking skate you fucking bastard!" she cried out, her eyes suddenly locking with his and even if she wouldn't say it he could finally see it in her eyes and he grinned ferociously, his teeth clenching as his balls squeezed almost painfully as he slammed himself into her one last time.

* * *

"I didn't know you could cook." She paused, butter knife in one hand and the top of a muffin in the other and told herself that stabbing him with the knife would be only be messy and she would have to clean it up.

"I imagine there's a great deal you don't know about me," she replied with a smirk and went back to buttering her muffin. It was still warm, despite the distraction he'd supplied. She'd expected to wake up alone and was clearly weirded-out by having him sitting across the table from her eating breakfast, the same table she'd thought they'd broken the night before using it in a more…unconventional fashion.

"Well now that we've gotten this over with you can move in with me and we'll figure that out," he offered brightly. Phil took a long sip of coffee and forced herself to not just get up and flee.

"My bags are packed," she pointed with tilt of her head towards the boxes lining the wall of the living room and her bags already waiting at the door. She watched his confident grin turn upside down.

"You were leaving?" he actually sounded hurt when he said it. Phil took another muffin from the tray, pulled the cap off and slowly spread butter across the bottom.

"The way things were going…," she shrugged and lifted the muffin to her lips. When she met his gaze over the top of the muffin she shuddered. He was wearing that angry expression again. That expression that made her think about being pressed between him and the wall. She licked her lips and returned her attention to the food on her plate. "What did you expect me to do? Sit around and be treated like a doormat?"

"But you're not going now, right?" He sounded so much like an eager child begging her to stay. Phil shook her head.

"Why, because you think last night changes everything?" She didn't look up. She didn't even have to glance in his direction to know that he'd be wearing that kicked puppy expression on his face, even if she hadn't seen it since Cole Harbor. "Don't get ahead of yourself Crosby."

She'd expected an argument. She didn't get one. The only sound, for what seemed like forever, was his breathing and then his plate crashed to the floor and shattered. The next sound she heard was the door crashing into the wall, just like it had done the night before followed by utter silence.

She looked up at the door and thought about getting up to close it and then thought better of it and went back to sipping her coffee. If she got up now she might see him striding across the garden in nothing but those black boxer briefs and that might make her call him back and she wasn't ready to be that weak.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"I'm sorry," Pascal held up his hand to ward off the blow Sid aimed at him, "but you have to admit it's kind of funny." Sid narrowed his eyes at his teammate.

"I don't think so," he growled, still considering backhanding his older, usually wiser friend. Pascal hugged his sides and shook his head.

"But it is," he insisted. "You held her at arms' length and the poor girl's just getting her own back. I think it's kind of poetic fucking justice," he added with another snort of derisive laughter. Sighing and shaking his head, Sid turned to sit down on the bench and tried his best to lose himself in the routine of getting ready for practice but his mind kept replaying images from the night before and try as he might, he couldn't stop his imagination from repeating the highlights.

"I hate games," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Ah oui, but you played a game and I'm certain she hasn't forgotten about that," Dupers reminded him. Sid groaned.

"This is why I don't get involved in relationships," he hissed. He heard the sound of his friend's only half restrained throaty chuckle and clenched his teeth.

"I'm sorry mon ami but you know that you want her et le coeur veut ce que le coeur désire, oui?" Grudgingly he nodded, once. His chest ached at the point behind which he assumed his heart was. He had never wanted anyone this much.

"So what do I _do_?" he asked through clenched teeth. Pascal's hand rested on Sid's knee.

"You wait. She'll come around. I've seen the way she looks at you mon ami. She might want you to suffer now but je suis certain qu'à la fin, les choses vont passez votre chemin." Sid sucked in a lungful of air slowly, letting his chest fill and then just as slowly blew it out.

"Fuck me I hope so," he admitted, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut, "because I can't fucking take this shit. I don't need it."

"I bet you didn't think that last night," TK interjected unhelpfully, making vulgar motions with his hips and grinning. Sid rolled his eyes but noticeably did not argue the point.

* * *

She kept her lens pointed at the faces of a group of young girls pressed to the glass despite hearing the unmistakable sound of skate blades cutting through fresh ice. They pounded their fists against the glass and squealed like they were at a pop concert.

"The Bieber of hockey," she grinned to herself as one of the girls began to hop up and down, pointing and uttering the kind of chattering noises usually made only by squirrels and chipmunks while the girl next to her just stared, mute and faintly dew eyed. They were both wearing his jersey. One was clutching a sign professing hopes of marriage. The other clutched a doll wearing something akin to his image close to her heart.

If they only knew, she mused as she took their pictures. They looked innocent enough now but like any rabid teenage fan, she felt certain their emotions could turn ugly on a dime if pressed. She'd already witnessed one altercation between a group of pretty young Pens' fans and a brave, lone Flyers fan in the concourse. That unfortunate orange clad fan would be living with the stench of beer for the rest of the evening.

"So, you're like…official?" Phil blinked and turned to face yet another Pens fan, this one with long, ash blonde hair and blinding dental work. "You're like…working for the Pens?" the girl asked again, tipping her head to one side and fingering the swipe card that did indeed enable Phil to get to places beyond normal public access.

"I do," she replied as she deleted the last photograph she'd taken. TK had swooped by and made a face right at the camera. These were not supposed to be pictures of the players. Not until the puck dropped.

"So do you, like, ever take pictures of them in the shower?" the girl asked, giggling as soon as she had. Her friends joined in, giggling behind their hands. Phil eyed them skeptically. She wasn't generally good with ages but she was fairly sure most of these girls had probably yet to see a real man in the nude. They wouldn't be giggling if they'd seen what she'd seen last night. Sidney naked did not provoke a fit of the giggles. Only gasps.

"No, nothing like that," she replied in as professional a tone as she could manage. She changed the lens on her camera and turned to take a picture of the giggling gaggle of girls in front of her. They posed with wide smiles and one of them unrolled a sign that stated that she'd happily do two minutes in the sin bin for holding Sid's stick. Phil knew that he would hear about such a sign but would rarely see it from the ice himself. From a young age he'd learned to shut out the voices from the stands, mostly because they'd been jealous stage mothers, intent on getting him off of his game in order to aid their own, less talented sons.

"So do you, like, _know_ them? Do you, like, hang out?" a girl with pig tails hugging a large stuffed Emperor penguin to her chest asked, wide eyed. Phil shook her head.

"No, not really," she replied honestly. This response seemed to determine her fate and the group of girls turned like a flock of birds, heading back towards their seats in formation, chattering amongst themselves like a murder of crows. Phil took a photo of the retreating group, of Sid's number on the back of the girl in the middle, with Tanger's, Nealer and Geno's numbers flanking his.

Turning her attention back towards the ice surface she caught sight of Sid kneeling in that same spot out on the ice that he always chose to retie his skates. She didn't raise her camera. That shot had already been taken a million and one times but as she switched lenses again she watched him raise his head and felt his gaze lock with her own. A kind of electrical charge raced over her skin as though she'd dragged her feet across a carpeted floor and then touched a metal surface.

"Damn it," she cursed mostly under her breath as she nearly dropped her camera. She'd always had a thing for The Pens' captain but now, after last night…, "double damn," she added for good measure as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and turned to head up the aisle. What she needed now was a churro and maybe a beer, just to take the edge off.

Or at least that had been the plan.

He was everywhere she turned as she walked quickly along the crowded concourse. His number winked at her from the back of what seemed like every second jersey she passed. If it wasn't that it was his burnt caramel gaze staring back at her from larger than life posters plastered to the concrete walls and even from plastic cups held firmly in the grips of fans heading to their seats. A program was thrust into her hand and he was staring up at her from that too.

She made a sharp right hand turn and slid sideways past the line up and into a nearby washroom. Dipping her hands under the cool water that jetted out of tap she splashed her face and let the cool water run down her neck and into the front of her t-shirt. Ignoring the curious gazes of the women around her she cupped her hands and filled them with water, dipped her head and splashed the water over the back of her neck.

He was…overwhelming. What had started out as a flirtation, a chance to fulfill what she had thought was just a light-hearted fantasy was turning into something far more intense than she had ever imagined. _He_ was far more intense than she had ever imagined.

"I should have left when I had the chance," she mumbled as she reached for one of those brown, rough paper towels.

"Huh?" the woman beside her at the bank of sinks paused, lipstick tube pressed to her bottom lip. Phil smiled at the woman's reflection.

"Men, am I right?" she sighed and rolled her eyes. The woman looked relieved when she nodded and went back to applying her too bright slut red lipstick. Phil tossed the wadded paper into the nearest garbage can, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she pushed the door open and allowed herself to be swallowed by the boisterous crowd.

* * *

It had not gone well and Sid was sporting a shiner to boot as he dragged his jersey over his head and hung it on the peg. Giroux had been in his face most of the game but it had been that pesky carrot head that whose gums had never ceased flapping that had finally gotten under his skin enough to cause him to drop the gloves. Hartnell had a few inches on him and was a scrappy fighter. Sid had given as good as he got but he'd put his team down by dropping the gloves first and that had made his stay in the sin-bin miserable.

Not as miserable as having to stare across the ice at Phil where she stood between the benches, chatting amiably with the cameraman and ostentatiously flirting with Pierre McGuire. Worse than that, Talbot had worked his way to the end of the bench and had made a show of leaning around the glass and aiming his cheesy hundred watt tooth filled grin at her and Sid had been able to do nothing but watch.

Until he had a chance to put Max, face first, into the glass. Usually he tried to avoid laying into guys on other teams that he considered friends, even after Ruuts had sat on his head in Sweden and Army had made a show of putting him on ass in Toronto. He didn't mind guys playing hard against him but this had felt personal.

As had her behavior.

Sid flexed his hand, looking down at his bloody knuckles. This was exactly why he didn't get involved, why a string of one night stands was better than having someone waiting for him at home. It was too much of a distraction. If it had been any one but her….

"Jesus, go home and take it on her already," Nealer scoffed as he tossed his helmet up on the shelf and dragged his own sweat soaked jersey over his head.

"Before you ask, oui, it's that fucking obvious," Dupers added as he slumped onto the bench beside where Sid was still standing. A kind of blissful sigh came from the older forward as he took the weight from his feet, stretching them out in front of him and closing his eyes. "But don't blame her for what happened out there," he added, briefly opening one eye and fixing it on Sid, "d'accord?" Sid nodded and breathed out his own sigh, his shoulders rising and falling before he too allowed himself to sit and begin the process of tackling the tape on his socks.

"I could kill Max," he grumbled.

"He always knows how to get under your skin mon ami," Dupers chuckled, his full lips turning up in an expression of amusement that made Sid grimace. It was purely at his expense. "I wonder how long it took him to figure out she belongs to you." He tossed the tape onto the floor for the equipment staff to pick up as Sid pondered the concept of owning Phil. It didn't seem possible. She seemed too ethereal, like a will-o-wisp, always evading his grasp. Or at least she had.

Could he really have her now? Would she even stay?

"Don't let that get away Crosby or I'll be right back in there," Nealer called from across the room. Sid glared at his teammate's back as James headed towards the showers, pausing to leisurely wind a towel up and snap it at Geno who easily side stepped the whip.

"He would," Pascal reiterated. Sid turned his attention back to the clear tape on his socks.

"Yeah, well, he won't get that chance," he muttered. Pascal made an approving sound and clapped the Pens' captain on the back. Sid sighed. His friend didn't know what he knew, about those boxes in the hall of the cottage at the end of his backyard and the bags sitting at the door like dogs waiting impatiently to be taken out for a walk.

Sid's stomach churned. Maybe Nealer wouldn't get the chance for a second shot at Phil but he wasn't sure he was going to get one at all.

* * *

She heard the door open and smiled. The hinges didn't complain and the cottage didn't shake. It wasn't followed by the sound of crumbling dry wall. He didn't slam it behind him either. In fact, while she scrutinized the photos she'd taken on her laptop, it seemed to take forever for him to even close the door.

"Don't go."

Phil felt her heart swell in her chest, cutting off her oxygen. Her hand shook as she swiped a finger across the screen to move on to the next photograph, another young girl in his jersey with wonder in her eyes. Did she feel like that, she wondered as she forced herself to continue to stare at the details on the screen.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she managed to reply and keep her voice sounding level and calm, or at least she hoped she sounded that way. It got increasingly harder to catch her breath as she heard his footsteps getting closer.

The screen of her laptop folded shut and she watched him casually toss it onto the other end of the sofa. She felt his hand on her cheek and still she kept her eyes down, refusing to look up until he used his considerable strength and his thick fingers dug into her sensitive skin.

"Why are you _torturing_ me?" he growled, the gold flecks in his eyes glittering like sparks as he forced her to meet his gaze.

"You?" she managed, _just_, to breathe. "I just wanted to have some fun. You're the one that's trying to make this into…," she narrowed her eyes, trying to display a kind of toughness she didn't feel especially with the heat coming from his skin and the mixture of aftershave and musk that filled her head. "What _do_ you want Sidney?" she asked breathlessly.

His answer was to capture her mouth with his, his hand slipping around to cup the back of her head as he climbed onto the couch until all of his width and breadth were covering hers'. The fingers of his other hand worked furiously to undo the snap on her jeans before he forced his whole hand down inside of her panties, dragging a groan from her as his fingers slid over her clit. She gasped, her head tipping back, exposing the curve of her neck and the sensitive spot just below her ear where he dug his teeth in until she begged for more and then it was a mad scramble to tear off one another's clothes, buttons popping off, fabric tearing and zippers snarling as they were yanked down hard and fast.

He groaned into her neck as he slid deep inside of her and she dug her nails deep into back answering his groan with a gasp. They both stayed motionless, not even daring to breathe as they rode that first wave of pleasure that threatened to rip the universe asunder and then, very slowly, they began to move.

Her hips rose to meet his, his lips fell to cover hers'. Their tongues twined and twisted in rhythm with the dance of their bodies. His fingers dug deeply into the skin of her hips. Her nails shredded the skin on his back.

"Faster," she whispered, her tongue tasting the soft smooth skin of his earlobe.

"God, I'll fucking go," he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Then let go," she purred, pressing quick, soft kisses along the line of jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against her lips.

"No," he growled, using his considerable strength and leverage to lift her hips off of the cushion so he could drive himself deeper into her, "ladies first." Phil whimpered, pressed her forehead against his shoulder and cursed quietly.

"Good thing I'm no lady." She clenched the muscles inside her pussy around his cock and bit down on the curve of his neck, feeling his pulse jump beneath her tongue. He swore, emitting a long line of f-bombs as he fought for control.

His hand fisted in her hair, forcing her head back and he feasted on her mouth, her neck and then lower. His tongue swept around each nipple before he sucked each, in turn, into his mouth. His fingers replaced his dick and he fucked her with them, hard and fast.

She came like he had torn the orgasm from her, as if he'd reached in and grabbed it with his bare hands, ripping it out of somewhere low in her body. Her back arched and she screamed his name. She barely felt him shove his dick back inside. Her body was too wracked with convulsions but she heard him whispering her name like a mantra, like a prayer.

When he went still, when his forehead pressed against hers' and she felt his release filling her, she held him. She wrapped her arms around him and held on and whispered his name.

"I want this," he whispered, his breath warm against her heated skin. "I want you, with me. I want this. I want us."

* * *

He was cold and stiff and his neck hurt like hell and Sid knew as he stretched and tangled his fingers in the knotwork of an afghan that he was not in his bed. Managing to open one eye he looked down at the ruin of their clothes twisted together on the floor as their bodies had been when he had succumbed to sleep.

He was still on the couch but she was not. In fact, as Sidney threw the afghan aside, nothing but silence greeted him. The cottage even felt empty.

Sid cursed under his breath as he pulled his boxer briefs up and then began searching for his suit pants.

"I have to go." He paused, her jeans in his hand and looked up to find her sitting on a bar stool at the counter, wearing his dress shirt and staring into space.

"Why?" he snarled, tossing her jeans aside and picking up his pants. The zipper was broken when he tried to do it up.

"It's my Grams," she replied in a voice that was half whisper half sob. It was only then he noticed that she was holding her phone in one hand. He felt the resentment and anger that was beginning to build in his chest melt away as he crossed the room and slid the small plastic rectangle from her fingers. The last number that had called her was familiar. It was almost the same as the one his mother would call him from. "I have to go," she repeated, turning her haunted gaze to meet his. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen. She'd obviously been crying.

"Is she…?" He didn't need to complete the question. The fresh silvery tears that spilled the moment he began were answer enough.

Putting her phone down on the counter Sid wrapped Phil up in his arms. The wildcat that had scratched him the night before had been replaced by a fragile kitten. Sid pressed his lips to her forehead as she silently cried into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. She sniffed, leaned back wiping her nose on the back of her hand as she looked up at him, wrinkling her cute little nose and making him want to kiss it.

"For what?" she asked, frowning. Sid leaned in to kiss away a tear that had run down her face and stopped just above a beauty mark on her cheek.

"Did you not hear everything I said to you last night?" he smiled down at her, thinking about how she had lain in his arms while he'd daydreamed aloud about their future. She hadn't exactly agreed but then again she hadn't disagreed either. "I want you to be with me but you need to go and I can't be there for you so I'm sorry," he reiterated. She sniffed again and one corner of her mouth twitched, almost like she was going to smile but didn't have the energy. He kissed that corner of her mouth. It tasted of the salt in her tears. "I'll arrange a private jet. I just need to make a call," he added as he wrapped her in his arms again.

"That's crazy, I can just take a regular flight," she mumbled as she twisted, trying to free herself from his grasp. Sid stilled her, holding her tighter.

"You'd probably have to make three different flights to get there by this evening. I can get you a direct flight and you can be with your family in a few hours." Sid lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her stubborn one stared back at him. "Jesus woman don't fight me on this too."

"Fine," she sniffed, turning her face away from his, "but I don't know when I'll be back."

"You will," he said, feeling certain that it was true. He pressed another kiss to her forehead before she slid off the bar stool and headed for the shower. He watched her go, his heart swelling. They'd made a kind of break through, like when you got the monkey off your back and scored your first goal of the season. He felt that sort of relief and giddy sort of happiness that pinged around in his chest like the kind of fireworks that skidded and skipped along the ground.

Smiling to himself, Sid retrieved his phone from the pocket of his pants and started making calls.

* * *

The small jet sat waiting in the hanger like a dog waiting patiently to be taken out. The engines droned and the blonde flight attendant standing at the top of the stairs smiled brightly, looking like an advertisement for a travel magazine or maybe teeth whitener.

"This is…crazy, it's too much," she mumbled, twisting the handle of her purse nervously. Every person that had met them since they'd arrived at the terminal had been too bright, too shiny. She felt like she had entered into some alternate reality, like the Barbie universe or something. That bitch had a private plane and was always grinning like an idiot too.

"Call me when you get there?" Sid's fingers brushed along the nape of her neck. It should have been comforting, she knew that it was meant to be but Phil was so tense that it felt more like some kind of torture device was digging into her skin.

"I don't know how long I'll be there," she told him again, while she stared at some kind of stain in the concrete between her feet. It felt like there were so many eyes on them, like everyone knew her business. If one more person said they were sorry to hear about her bereavement….

"Say hi to your parents for me," he grinned like he was sending her back to a party. Phil frowned. Did he expect her to tell them she was sleeping with the Captain of the Penguins? Did he seriously think that was the kind of conversation people had at funerals?

"Yeah…sure, whatever," she mumbled. Was it cute that he was drawing this out? That he obviously was enjoying playing the part of the big important VIP celebrity, snapping his fingers and turning her pumpkin into a Learjet.

"I'll miss you," he added in a childish sing-song tone that set her teeth on edge. She wanted to yell at him, to ask him if he really thought this was the time to play happy families when she was so clearly in pain but instead she forced a smile onto her face and kept her lips pressed firmly shut. "Well I guess you'd better go," he added jovially. Phil nodded, once, but when he moved in to kiss her she turned and gave him her cheek before giving him a half-hearted hug and then dashing for the plane.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate what he'd done, she thought as she settled into an overstuffed blonde leather chair near a window and gave him a half-hearted wave. It was just that it was all too much, that _he_ was too much. She felt like she couldn't breathe, like he'd pulled a plastic bag over her head and was trying to asphyxiate her.

"I just need some air," she gasped, digging her fingers into the butter soft leather arms of the chair.

"Not a happy flyer?" the blonde flight attendant grinned as she reached to do up Phil's seat belt. "I have some gum. It helps with pressure," she added in the same infantile sing-song tone that Sid had been using ever since they'd left the house.

"I'm good," Phil snapped and turned to stare out the window as the jet taxied towards the runway. She just needed to be with her Grandpa, to see if he was alright and put her arms around him. And she needed some time. She was sure she'd get her head straight about Sidney if she just had some time and space. That was all she needed, just some time to think.


	16. Chapter 16

_I apologize for the foreverness that it took to get this done. Life gets in the way, eh Mel?_

**Chapter 16**

The air had the tang of salt and chilled her to the bone as she stood on the back deck of her grandparent's house. You couldn't see the ocean from there but you could smell it on the breeze. Phil wrapped her arms around herself but the cold was already seeking its way through her jacket lie icy fingers.

"You should come back inside." Her mother's hand came to rest, gently, on her shoulder. Phil bristled. They weren't exactly a 'huggy' sort of family but over the last few days everyone, people she didn't even know, had been hugging her, touching her, kissing her cheeks. It was like she didn't have a right to her own space anymore.

"I will," she promised half heartedly.

"It won't bring her back, y'know, standing out here by yourself," her mother added in that grade three teacher tone of voice. Phil rolled her eyes.

"I _do_ know that," she hissed. Of course her mother hadn't come out to see if she was alright. She was just worried about appearances, about her daughter being missing from the reception line inside.

"Well don't just stand out her pouting. You'll catch your death."

She heard the sliding door open and then close again. She waited another thirty seconds before she cursed, a long slew of profanity that would have made Sidney proud.

Sidney….

She'd lost count of how many times he'd called, twenty maybe. The messages had started out upbeat, the kind of 'just checking in' calls that boyfriends should make but the last two were more terse; demanding that she call back. She'd started to call back, half a dozen times but every time she did she'd lost her nerve.

The fact was she didn't know what to say.

They didn't have the kind of relationship that meant she could tell him how her mother had already taken the kewpie doll her grandmother had always kept on her dresser. The one she'd promised to Phil. He wouldn't understand if she tried to tell him how it felt like that she hadn't been there to say goodbye.

Besides, she thought as she took a deep breath of Maritime air before turning to go back in the house, she had no right to dump her shit on him. He had other, much more important things to worry about than that she was feeling sorry for herself.

"Oh there you are honey!" Her father's big arm settled around her shoulder like a giant anaconda, pulling her tightly against him until she could barely breathe. "There's some people here I'd like you to meet. Wendell's son here is an insurance agent." Phil smiled at the bespectacled young man who was being pressed forward by his own overbearing father. She couldn't help thinking that Sid could probably bench press two of him.

* * *

"You stare at your phone any longer and it might burst into flame," Duper warned as he slid into the seat beside Sid at the table and reached past him for the basket of buns. Sid grimaced as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Phil hadn't returned a single one of his calls for three days.

Sid grabbed a bun before Pascal put the basket down and tore into it like he'd just escaped a concentration camp. Geno, across the table from him, raised a single eyebrow.

"Girl no call? Is good. Who need bitching? Nag, nag, nag." The entire table fell silent. The big Russian didn't say a lot but he often hit the nail on the head with only a few words. The guys were watching him for his reaction, so with the little bit of acting ability he could muster, Sid smirked.

"Bitches, am I right?" he mumbled. It was enough. The room erupted in laughter and for a few minutes, at least, the guys would stop giving him those sideways glances that told him that his negative energy was bleeding all over them. He was supposed to be their leader, their emotional rock. They didn't need him falling apart half way through the season.

"I'm sure she'll call when she's ready. It's a family thing. She's probably just got her phone shut off to be polite," Tanger elbowed him gently in the ribs but didn't even pause while slathering at least an inch of horseradish on his prime rib.

"Maybe," Sid replied, doing his best to sound unperturbed while he stabbed at a potato on his plate.

"Orrrr you've totally scared her off with the whole clingy routine," Pascal offered dryly. Sid mercilessly stabbed another potato, pushed it around his plate for a while and then let his fork drop.

"First you tell me to go for it, now you tell me it was too much…fuck, you're as bad as her." He stared at his plate and wished he was hungry but he'd long since lost his appetite.

"You don't have to listen to me," Dupers cut a piece of his seafood stuffed chicken breast and slid it onto Sid's plate. Sid would never order that for himself, not with all the cream sauce. That didn't mean he hadn't wanted to.

"Yeah? Then who should I listen to, Kennedy?" he snarled, stabbing the piece of chicken and stuffing all of it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the indulgent moment.

"Did you send flowers?" Sid opened his eyes to find Tanger lifting what was left of his New York strip from his plate and adding it to his own pile of food. Sid stared longingly at the mountain of garlic mashed potatoes, dripping with gravy and butter.

"Girls don't like that anymore," he muttered, licking his lips as Kris cut a piece of Sid's steak and slid it through the puddle of gravy in the middle of his mashed potato volcano. "They always think you've done something you're feeling guilty about when you give them flowers."

"Not for her dipshit," Brooks weighed in as he leaned across the table and took the other half of Sid's uneaten bun. "For her Grandmother, did you send flowers to the funeral? Y'know, show you're thinking about her without checking up on her like you're some kind of jealous junior high chess nerd?" Sid sank into his chair.

"Do you think I should have?" Dupers snorted. Kris rolled his eyes. Flower shook his head and looked bemused. "Damn it," he cursed quietly, picked up his fork, stabbed his last, unmolested potato and reached over and dipped it into Tanger's gravy.

"Send one of those edible arrangement things, fruit and wine and shit and a note that says you can't wait for her to come home and then leave it _alone_," Brooks suggested philosophically. Several heads bobbed in agreement. Sid pulled his phone from his pocket, grateful the restaurant provided wireless.

* * *

Phil carefully slid the card back into its diminutive envelope and slid both into the back pocket of her jeans before plucking a ripe looking strawberry from one of the skewers and popping it into her mouth. As the delicious juice filled her mouth she closed her eyes and sighed. Fresh fruit certainly made a change from all of the finger sandwiches and casseroles she'd been eating for the last few days.

"Your grandparents had tons of stuff." Phil didn't turn toward the direction of the voice. She went back to sorting through the books from the only bookshelf in her grandparents' home. There was a complete set of really old and outdated encyclopedias and a few equally obsolete books of maps that would just have to be thrown out. The rest, mostly well thumbed bodice rippers, could go to the charity shop.

"No there's just those boxes by the door to go, thanks," she called over her shoulder. What she'd wanted to say was that it was none of the delivery guy's business but she's promised herself that she wouldn't go picking fights. That had mostly had to do with her parents but she was willing to extend it to strangers if that meant they'd leave her alone.

"This place sure hasn't changed much." Okay, now she was getting a real stalker vibe and her parents weren't going to be back from the settling her grandfather in the 'retirement community' for at least another hour. Phil picked up a soap stone carving her Grams had used as a bookend and slowly turned.

"Oh my gawd, Steve-O!" She almost dropped the carving in her enthusiasm as she ran across the room to wrap her arms around her old friend. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you too but I'm sorry it's not for happier reasons," he replied earnestly, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. "I guess it's been a long time."

"Yeah," she backed away, guilt suddenly making her stomach twist. She'd spent a lot of that first summer with Steve. Not as much as she had with Sidney but the couple of times she'd been back they'd palled around and she hadn't given him much thought lately. She'd glanced at his posts on Facebook but she'd never sent him so much as a birthday greeting.

"So you and Sid huh?" Phil reached out to grip the edge of a table to steady herself. It hadn't occurred to her that Sidney, with all he had going on, would still be in touch with the slow kid from down the street and immediately admonished herself for even thinking something of the kind.

"I…uh," she didn't know how to answer the unspoken question. What had Sid said? When was the last time the two of them had spoken? Phil raised her hand to her chest. Her heart was beating so hard she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Don't worry, he didn't go into the sordid details," Steve added with a chuckle. Phil rounded on him, knowing she looked like a panic stricken deer facing down a speeding train. "Too bad really," he added with a grin that told her he really was kidding.

"It's just…it's too soon. We don't really know where we're going with this," she muttered, turning back to busy her now shaking hands shoving books into boxes, taking far less care with them than she had been doing.

"Yeah, he said he was pretty sure he spooked you," Steve strolled into the room and picked up one of the old encyclopedias, balanced it on his arm and started to flip through it like they were talking about the weather and not the second most famous hockey player in the country but then he and Sid had been friends forever, so maybe for him it was like chatting about something as ordinary as what to have for lunch.

"We're just…we're not on the same page right now." Phil winced. This was like passing notes in class and she felt like she was about to get caught, be made to stand up in front of the class and read it out loud in front of everyone.

"So, nothing new there then." When people said that Steve was slow it had to do with his slightly shuffling knock kneed and pigeon-toed gait along with his slightly slurred speech that made it sound like he was consistently three sheets to the wind. It had nothing to do with his mind. "Poor guy. Not like hasn't been in love with you since he was seventeen," he added before she'd had a chance to change the subject.

"Jeeeezus," she gasped, her hand on the spine of an old book about the history of trucking. "When you say it like that it makes me sound like some kind of monster." Phil let go of the book and wiped her palms down the front of her jeans. "Besides, that's not…it's not... I'm telling you, it's not that big of a deal," she insisted even while her stomach did the hula and her heart bounced around in her chest like a kid high on sugar.

"You sure about that?" Steve grin was huge as she stood there wishing that a hole would open in the space time continuum and let her escape this awkward and hugely embarrassing moment. "Look I know he's a dweeb and his whole hockey god job is a total pain in the ass but…you could do worse, you know that, right?" Phil didn't trust herself to speak. She'd barely been able to give any thought to the situation. She didn't want to start discussing it with someone she hadn't seen in years, even if he was obviously in touch with Sidney.

"So…how's your dad? Does he still do those reenactment days at the Fort?" she asked, changing the subject and turning her back on him at the same time, praying he'd get the hint.

"So it's like that huh?" she heard him snicker and knew it was at her expense but she clenched her jaw and let it go. "Yeah, air rifle and everything. Hey last weekend they let me blow off the cannon, pretty cool huh?"

She almost replied '_just like Sid did on his birthday_' but pressed her lips closed and did her best to ignore the smug grin on his face that made it clear he knew what she was doing but he was going along with it anyway.

* * *

The wind blew the bitter cold rain sideways, forcing her to pull her hood further forward and hunch her shoulders as she walked along the shore. Everyone had left for their own corners of the earth already so she was running out of excuses to stay. The question was where was she going to go?

All her life she'd felt like she was waiting for something. When she was very young she thought she was just waiting to grow up. Then, as she'd gotten a little older, she thought she was just waiting for school to finish, to have a job, get the life she'd been waiting for. Now that she had that job, while she liked it, even enjoyed it, it didn't give her that sense of fulfillment she had thought that it would.

What she waited for every day wasn't taking that one good shot, even though she did feel a sense of pride and accomplishment when she did. No, that one thing that she had looked forward to every day was him. She dreaded it too, in equal measures. But she longed to see him every morning, even if it was only for a moment. It felt like her day wasn't complete without that once glimpse, that one smile, that single, solitary moment when she felt those butterflies in her stomach and her heart raced and she breathed the same air as him.

Damn, it sounded like some kind of school girl crush she thought as she kicked a pebble along the rocky shoreline. This couldn't be love, she told herself firmly, keeping her head down against the gale and the icy rain that hurt where it hit her skin. She had been sure love would be calm, would be Zen like. She didn't think what she was feeling, the need to go back, to see him, to hear that distinctive girlish giggle of his was any more than puppy love.

So why go back? Why not nip this…whatever this was, in the bud? The sooner the better, kill it before it began to fester like some horrible putrid rash. Go somewhere else. Surely Reebok had other players she could work with, ones that she wouldn't want to jump the minute she saw them?

Phil stopped, picked up a flat, oval stone and turned it over in her hand. He'd taught her this, along this very same shore line, albeit in better weather and while they were wearing shorts but he had. She turned to face the water, black and boiling in the wind and bent her knees. She felt the smooth cool surface of the stone in her fingers and heard his words in her head; 'just flick it, it's all in the wrist'.

The stone danced across the surface of the water, skipping three times before sinking into the surf. It hadn't beat his record, five skips. Of course he had to be good at this too. He had to be good at everything, which, she thought as she shielded her face again, hunching her shoulders against the wind and rain, is why no matter what her brain said, her body was begging her to go back to Pittsburgh, back to _him_.

* * *

"Eenie, meenie, minie…moe." Phil picked up one of the smooth rocks in the planter near the front door, held it up to her ear and shook it. It rattled. Smiling to herself she twisted the fake rock and dropped the key inside into the palm of her hand. Now all that was left was the alarm code. He'd shown it to her twice. She only hoped she remembered it.

The door swung open into the dark and she quickly turned to key in the code on the backlit number pad; six, twelve, zero nine, the date the Pens had won the cup. The keypad blinked and then beeped and then went dark. Pocketing the key Phil peered into the dark. The house was silent and cold, like the heat hadn't been on in days. Of course the team had been on the road for more than a week.

Turning the dead bolt on the door she pulled her back behind her to the foot of the stairs and pushed in the handle and hauled it up, a stair at a time until she reached the top. There was a great room to the right, but she turned left. The bedrooms were all at the back of the house.

Down the hall to right was a guest room painted with neutral colours and next to that a big shared bathroom that she knew there was no way that Sidney had anything to do with designing. It was the room at the far end of the hall to the left that Phil pulled her bag behind her towards.

The door was half open like he's been expecting company and one of his t-shirts was draped along the edge of the bed like he'd left it there for her. She picked it up and pressed her face into the soft cotton. It still held his scent, musky with a hint of that expensive cologne he wore. Putting the t-shirt down, for the moment, she reached to turn on one of the bedside lamps and then headed for the closet.

As soon as she pushed open the door the lights overhead came on, illuminating a large, half empty walk in closet. Phil ran her fingers along the line of suits hung up in order of colour, lightest to darkest, and then down a perfectly symmetrical pile of carefully folded dress shirts, all powder blue. There was another stack of white ones as well as a smaller stack of darker coloured shirts next to a large stack of equally neatly folded t-shirts in a rainbow of colours.

"Even your jeans? Geez, O.C.D. much Crosby?" Phil chuckled as she ran her fingers down a line of his jeans hung side by side, from darkest and least worn to lightest and most frayed.

The other side of the closet was empty, apart from a couple of his old jerseys hanging all alone. It was as if he'd been saving this side of the closet for someone. Phil unzipped her suitcase, took down an empty hanger and started to put away her clothes.

* * *

Sometimes a direct flight back after a game was a good thing, if it meant extra rest and no morning skate but half way through the season all Sid felt, as he dropped his bag on the tile floor of the foyer, was exhausted. He left the bag there by the door as he headed for the stairs. Normally he'd have at least thrown his few shirts and socks in the laundry before he dragged his tired ass up the stairs but he didn't even have the strength to do that. His legs felt like he had hundred pound weights on his ankles. Where usually he would bounce up them two at a time he took one stair at a time and leaned heavily on the banister. It wasn't just a crushing hit against the boards from Chara, the real problem was all of the nights he'd spent tossing and turning instead of sleeping.

Sid reached into his pocket, fished out the tie he'd taken off almost as soon as he'd boarded the plane and began to wind it around his fist as he turned to head down the hallway and stopped in his tracks. There was a sliver of light shining beneath his bedroom door. Being a Canadian and having been raised with a certain amount of distrust of guns, he kept a hockey stick under his bed but that wasn't going to do him any good out in the hallway.

Shrugging off his jacket Sid reached forward and slowly pushed the door inward. At first glance it appeared as though nothing was amiss but as he gingerly ventured forward, he realized that the t-shirt he'd left on the end of the bed when he'd decided to leave it behind was now crumpled into a heap and there was a humming sound coming from his closet.

'Stalker' was the first thing that came to mind as he slowly crouched and reached beneath the bed for his trusty wooden street hockey stick. He'd had his fair share of stalkers but none had ever managed to break into his house before. Usually they camped out down at the gate until he called security, which, he thought, he thought he probably should have done before now but decided he could probably take care of it himself. He wasn't a big guy like Geno but he was pretty sure he could take care of himself unless she turned out to be like that crazy chick in Misery and he ended up tied to the bed while she took a baseball bat to his…

"Jeeeezus Sidney, what are you trying to do, take my head off with that thing?" Sid looked up at the stick that he'd raised to shoulder height and then at the woman standing in the middle of his closet.

"Phil? What the fuck are you doing here?" Carefully he leaned the stick up against the closet door while he tried to get his own features under control. His heart was hammering hard against the wall of his chest and he knew that it wasn't just adrenalin making him feel like he'd just skated all the way back to throw himself in front of a Chara slap shot.

"What you asked me to do," she replied with a quizzical expression as she reached to take down a hanger and slip a filmy looking black blouse onto it.

"I'm tired," he admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose, "just tell me what this means." He felt her hand on his arm, a gentle tug as she tried to pull his hand down from his face. He let her and found her staring up at him with those fathomless eyes of hers'.

"You said move in, or something like that _soooo_…that's what I'm doing." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You pretty much said no," he reminded her. She shrugged her shoulders and then went up on tip toe to brush her lips over his.

"I'm a girl, we change our minds. That's pretty much our prerogative," she told him and then turned to go back to putting her things in his closet. "By the way, this is nothing. I have all that stuff down at the cottage and then all this stuff in storage back home," she added as she lifted a pile of mismatched sweaters out of her luggage and shoved them onto a shelf. He fought the urge to grab the pile and rearrange them.

"I don't get it. You've barely answered a single text or email or…," he began, but she turned and pressed her palms against his stomach and just smiled up at him.

"I missed you. Okay? You have to give me room to miss you." Her gaze searched his and then she moved back, dropping her arms to her sides. "I thought this is what you wanted."

"I thought you didn't," he found himself replying defensively.

"I'm sorry," she snapped, grabbing a handful of sweaters and throwing them at his feet. "If you'd rather that I leave that can be totally arranged." With reflexes honed over years so that his hands were moving before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so Sid grabbed her by her wrists and tugged her to him, his mouth covering hers before she could utter another protest.

Her mouth tasted sweet, sugary, like she'd been chewing on candy and as he pressed her against the shelves, the heady aroma of her perfumed skin filled his head, making his already tired brain fizzle, all arguments sliding to a stop as her cool tongue twined with his.

"Does that mean you want me to stay?" she asked breathlessly as they came up for air.

"Get in my bed," he told her as he forcefully turned and frog marched her towards the foot of his king sized bed, "and I'll think about it."

* * *

"This is new," she smiled up at where he was currently using his tie to secure her arms above and behind her head. She could see that his brain was still in overdrive and she wondered if he was still afraid she'd leave if he didn't tie her to his bed, make her stay, that she'd disappear.

Not that she had plans to flee. Especially when he was straddling her, his muscles flexing, his jaw clenched, looking crazy, unbelievably sexy. His dress shirt was open at the throat, baring his thick muscular neck and inches of the smooth, pale skin of his massive chest. The pale blue fabric was pulled taut on his arms like it was barely able to withstand the exertion of being pulled across his massive biceps.

Phil licked her lips and let her gaze slowly drop to his belt and to his slate gray slacks. She could easily imagine the seams were about to give way, losing their battle against the pressure of his powerful trunk like thighs and his quads weren't the only muscles straining against the dark wool fabric of his pants.

"Looks like maybe you missed me too." She didn't make it a question, only a statement of fact as she raised her gaze to meet his. He didn't answer her, not with words anyway, but his hands shook as he began to fumble with the buttons on the front of her shirt. "Those can be replaced," she coaxed, arching her back off of the mattress, intentionally filling his hands with her breasts. Slowly he raised his gaze from her shirt and as his gaze met hers', full of hunger and anger and longing, he slowly ripped open her shirt, sending buttons pinging off the walls, the floor and even the ceiling.

"Just remember, you asked for this," he warned her, his tone low almost a growl. She smiled up at him and slowly whetted her bottom lip with the point of her tongue.

"I haven't _begun_ to ask you to do things to me," she purred. She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, the barrel of his chest fill and his shoulders heave as he drew in and then blew out a deep breath.

"If you're not going to be here in the morning tell me now," he breathed. Phil grinned up at him, tested her bonds and then shrugged, as much as she could with her arms pulled back behind her head.

"Looks like I'm not going anywhere," she replied with a smirk. Sid sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

"Damn you woman," he began and she could see that vein in his temple begin to throb. He was tired, she could see it in the colour of skin and the dark circles beneath his eyes. It really wasn't fair to play with him when he was disarmed like this. She wished she could touch his face now, feel the stubble on his cheeks beneath her fingertips.

"I'm a stubborn bitch Crosby and I am damn sure that I am not ready for this but I missed the fuck out of you while I was gone and for some reason I can't understand, I really can't imagine being without you now. So no, I'm not going anywhere. If you want me to leave you're going to have to shoot me and take me out the front door in a pine fucking box."

His eyes opened gradually and he just stayed there, kneeling over her for a long, silent, brooding moment and then, very slowly, his crooked smile appeared and just like that he was Sid the Kid, that boy from a small town that had first made her heart skip a beat.

"You love me," he grinned like he'd just heard the familiar refrain from an ice cream truck coming down the block.

"I'd love you more if you'd stop grinning at me like a kid who just farted in the tub and get your pants off," she countered.

"You do, you love me." His grin was wider now and Phil rolled her eyes.

"Really? That's what you want to do now when you have me tied to your bed and at your mercy?" she sighed. She was doing her best not to smile. Making him happy made her happy but he didn't need to know that, yet.

"Kinda, yeah," he admitted and began to giggle when she heaved another frustrated sigh.

"You're such a nerd Crosby." She tried but failed to stifle the giggle that bubble up from her chest by turning her head and burying her face in the pillow. The minute he heard her laugh he began to tickle her mercilessly until she was wriggling like a fish on a hook in the bottom of a row boat and tears were running down her cheeks. "Only you would rather do this than fuck," she gasped, tucking her knees up to her chest to make herself a smaller target.

"I wouldn't say I was finished," he whispered into her ear, the warmth and solidity of his body pressing against her back, "and I wouldn't say I'd _rather_ do anything but just so we both know who's in charge here," he added before brushing her hair away from the nape of her neck and biting down hard enough to make her gasp. She felt his teeth dig into her skin all the way down into her panties.

"Promises, promises," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and then cursing under her breath as, single handed, he unsnapped her jeans, slowly drew the zipper down and then shoved his hand down the front of her panties.

"I promise to make you say my name," he whispered into her ear, the tip of his tongue making a slow, wet circle around her hear. "And I promise to make you scream it by the time I'm done."

"That's a lot of talk Crosby," she mewed, grinding her ass into his lap. "I'm all about action."

"Your wish," he growled into her ear as he found her clit, making her gasp and arch her back against him, giving him access to her neck which he took, licking the spot her pulse jumped beneath her skin, "is my command."


	17. Chapter 17

_I apologize for the long delay in updating this story but I have just not been feeling creative and I guess that ended up in feeling stuck but I've come up with a way of going ahead with this story which I hope means there will be more to come soon_

**Chapter 17**

He woke feeling warm, relaxed and with the pressure of her cheek pressed against his chest and her firm grip on his hand. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her body curled neatly into his, listened to her slow, even breathing and inhaled the scent of her shampoo mixed with the smell of sex that still hung in the air. They hadn't slept much and yet, as he took stock of his muscles, feeling for usual aches and pains he had after a tough road trip, there were none. He felt relaxed, like he was waking up on a sunny summer morning with nothing to worry about, with no games to play and point to earn.

She sighed and shifted slightly, pressing her lips to the center of his chest. Sid slid his hand up her back and into her hair, tugging it more gently than he had in the early hours of the morning when he'd fucked her hard from behind. He smiled as he thought of the wild abandonment that had been in her eyes as they'd raced towards the edge together.

"You're still here," he whispered, looking down into her face, into the sleepy, contented smile that greeted him.

"Mmm that's the deal," she purred, rolling over until most of her was on top of him. He felt the soft press of her breasts on his chest, knew how they filled his hands and the sounds she made when he rolled his tongue around her dark pink nipples. "You'll need the jaws of life to get rid of me now Crosby. Once I make up my mind, I can be really stubborn," she added, leaning her pointed chin on the back of her hands where they were crossed on his sternum

"What changed? I mean, when you left I wasn't sure you were ever coming back, so…what made you change your mind?" Slowly the corners of her lips curled upwards and until she was smirking at him.

"You always have to know how things work dontcha Crosby? Gotta dissect everything, know every motivation until you can anticipate my every single move," she teased. He neither agreed nor disagreed, just waited. "It probably had something to do with that fruit arrangement you sent. The chocolate dipped bananas were very…evocative." Sid groaned and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. He'd kill Kennedy the first chance he got. "No, really, it might have been something Steve said," she added, spreading her hands and pressing her lips gently against the middle of his chest. "Or maybe I was just horny," she chuckled, her tongue making a warm, wet lap around his nipple.

Deciding he had answer enough, for now, Sid used his superior strength and agility to roll her beneath him, pinning her to mattress with her arms tucked into her sides. He worked his knee between hers and slowly spread her thighs until he could settle himself between them.

"Horny huh?" he grinned menacingly down at her, holding himself just outside of her entrance as she licked her lips and slowly raked her gaze down his chest to where their bodies were nearly joined.

"I think fucking you might be like smoking crack," she purred, lifting her hips and pushing herself up and over him. He closed his eyes and cursed. After the gymnastics of the night before he couldn't understand how she could still feel so tight. "Yeah baby, give me another hit of the good shit,"

Shaking his head and using the last ounce of his will power, Sid withdrew and slid his hand down into her wet folds instead. She grinned up at him in a sleepy, sexy way. "I don't think you're ready for the good stuff," he teased, watching her twist around his fingers, feeling her muscles tense as he stroked them over that most sensitive of spots. "Tell me you're not just here for this," he whispered as she grabbed a handful of sheets and pulled.

"Want you," she sighed, her breath catching in her throat as she raised her hips off of the bed.

"Want this?" he asked, leaving a slippery trail behind as he dragged his fingers up to slowly circle her clit. She whimpered and her top front teeth dug deep into her bottom lip. For the first time, in maybe ever he thought, that didn't drive him crazy. He could kiss that mouth whenever he wanted. From this day on he didn't just have to want to do it; he could.

"What are you smiling at?" Sid stared at that mouth, that sassy, sexy mouth and grinned.

"I can do this whenever I want." She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"You are _such_ a dweeb Crosby," she snorted, reaching up to brush her fingers gently over his lips. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm.

"Sticks and stones," he replied before slowly capturing her mouth and spreading her thighs at the same time. He'd been called just about every name every meant to inflict pain, had every derogatory label imagined pinned to him and he'd long ago ceased to feel the effects. It all just rolled off him now, like water off a duck's back.

On the other hand, there were some things he couldn't imagine ever ceasing to feel the effects of, like the feel of his body sheathed in hers'. Still, he told himself to go slowly, not to race towards the end like he was chasing a puck down the ice. Even if he could do this again in an hour he decided that he this was something to take his time with, at least this time. There would be time later to do it hard and fast until they were both breathless and bathed in sweat.

Sid drew his hips back and watched his cock slide almost free of her pussy, glistening with her juices and then, even more slowly, he screwed his way back inside of her. It blew his mind every single time how perfectly they fit together.

"Damn baby," he whispered reaching beneath her hips to change the angle, to screw his dick even deeper into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grinned up at him.

"Is it bad to feel sorry for all the girls who won't get to do this?" she purred and then squeezed her muscles around his cock and licked her lips. "Poor bitches."

"If you really feel that bad we could always invite a few back," he smirked down at her. Phil raised a single eyebrow.

"If you run across Kat Dennings the next time you play in LA, you're on Crosby." Sid squeezed his eyes shut. That vision was enough to make his head explode.

"Is that…could that be like…a real thing?" he stammered, opening one eye half way to gauge her reaction.

"Oh yeah, that could definitely be a thing," she promised with a grin that made his balls ache.

"Cool." He opened his eyes to find her giggling.

"You are _such_ a dork," she sighed and then reached forward to walk her fingers up his abs, "and I love you more with every geeky, dorky thing you do." There had been a sort of empty space between his ribs since she'd been gone and suddenly, in that same space, he felt like a balloon was being inflated. Was this what it felt like, he wondered as he leaned forward to pin her arms above her head as he slowly screwed his way deep inside of her. Was this what it meant like to know?

She closed her eyes, rolled her head to one side and sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Sid kissed that corner, and the corner of her jaw and that freckle behind her ear and the one on her shoulder. He heard her whisper his name and it sounded as good as a stadium full of fans chanting his name.

"Love you," he told her, whispering the words against the skin that pulled taught over her collarbone. "Love you forever," he repeated before he took her mouth again and urged her lips wide so his tongue could delve into the velvet cool of her mouth. She groaned for him and he felt her entire body shudder beneath his and he wrapped her in his arms, knowing it might crush her as he let himself go, body and soul.

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come?" he asked, running a hand through his unruly hair. It was getting really long and curling over his collar. She liked it that way, it gave her something to grab onto. She knew he'd heard about it from his mother but she also knew that he wasn't going to cut it until after the playoffs, which hopefully wouldn't be until deep into June.

"Nah, I still have some unpacking to do," she replied, slipping off the barstool she had been perched on where she'd been staying out of his pre-game preparations. Whether the chicken cacciatore she'd made had been up to what he was used to Sid hadn't said but he had eaten it all.

"I'd kind of like it if you did come," he suggested. Phil smiled as she reached to tighten and straighten his tie. She was going to have to do something about these double breasted suits he insisted on wearing. They made him look chubby and chubby was something that Sid definitely was not.

"You should be too busy concentrating to care if I'm there or not Crosby," she warned, sounding maternal all of a sudden, or worse, like Troy. He made a face. "What? It's true, and besides, you should have this game. Before you know it you'll be home," she added, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. Sid turned to press a kiss into her palm.

"You'll be here, right?" he asked quietly. She had assumed his mood since getting up from his nap had been about his rituals, thinking about the game but suddenly she saw before her that boy she'd knew. Phil wrapped her arms around the width of him and pressed her cheek against his chest.

"Right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." It hadn't just been the half day spent in his bed that had convinced her of the truth in her words, though the memory of those lazy hours of love making would be something she would cherish forever. It had been the waking up next to him, opening her eyes to find him watching her intently as if he really thought she might just vanish that had finally warmed that last piece of her heart. "You're stuck with me now," she added, raising her gaze to meet his so that he could see she meant every word.

He searched her gaze for a long moment before he dipped his head to capture her lips with his softer ones. Lips that the crazy red headed bitch from Big Brother probably would commit felony murder for. Phil melted into him, chasing his tongue with hers' until she felt him stiffen.

"I don't have time, I want to," he whispered against her cheek as he wrapped her up in bear hug.

"I can tell," she chuckled, feeling the evidence of it pressed against her belly. "And I'll be right here when you get back from kicking some Jets butt and you can celebrate until dawn if you want." He groaned against her neck. It tickled but that really wasn't what made her laugh. She made Sidney Crosby weak. She thought of the weight he could bench press, how he could chuck a medicine ball. He was by no means a weak man. "Go get 'em tiger, then come back and show me how much you want me."

With a sigh he reluctantly put her down but he didn't quite let go of her. He kept hold of her hand. Looking down at the way her hand disappeared into his big mitts Phil was reminded of the first time his fingers had crept over hers'. His palms had been clammy and she'd known how much it had taken for him to work up to that small a public display of affection.

"Will you watch?" he asked, his voice small, almost a whisper.

"Some of it, probably," she reluctantly agreed. "I don't need to watch to know you're the best player in the league and that you can skate rings around Byfuglien and besides," she added with a wink, "watching you get sweaty just gets me all hot and bothered and then I might be forced to take things into my own hands and…eeek!" He had her pinned between his bulk and the wall before she could finish teasing him and the feel of the long, hard thickness of him ensured she would definitely be looking forward to his return.

"I may not be able to be gentle with you if you keep that up." Phil grinned at him and licked her lips.

"Promises, promises Crosby."

* * *

"He's grinning. I'm scared," Nealer made a show of flinching as Sid walked towards his stall. Normally he'd have ignored the tall forward's attempts at getting under his skin but today he turned and aimed a punch at James' shoulder.

"Two for flinching," he grinned wider and then turned to toe off his shoes. The room got quiet around him, the usual chatter about the upcoming game, their day and the exploits of their kids, halted. Sid snickered, mostly to himself.

"So she's back eh?" Pascal's hand gently came to rest on his shoulder and Sid didn't shrug it off.

"Yeah," he nodded and felt his grin grow even wider.

"I'm happy for you mon ami," his teammate offered and Sid turned to smile at him.

"Thanks." It didn't feel like celebrating a goal but it felt good.

"She staying?" Pascal added, his multi coloured eyes questing his Captain's face as if he was worried the question might alter his mood. Sid nodded and Duper beamed at him. "Congratulations."

"Merci," he replied. Telling the guys made it feel real. There was something else that would add to that sensation. It was something he'd been contemplating for the entire drive which wasn't really a good idea for someone who got lost easily when not concentrating. "I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." If he'd thought that the room had fallen silent earlier it was so silent now he would have easily heard a pin drop now.

"Big step," Pascal said quietly. Sid wiped his palms along his thighs. He thought he should feel more nervous about it but he didn't. Phil had come back. She had promised to stay. It seemed like the most natural progression in the world. After a goal comes the celebration.

"I think I'm ready," he announced. It would mean telling his parents and incurring the wrath of Troy but after that he could ask for his grandmother's ring. He felt pretty certain Phil would prefer something sentimental that belonged in his family over something new and flashy.

"Maybe you are but she's kinda like the runaway bride dontcha think?" Nealer scoffed. Sid looked up at the lanky forward and shook his head.

"I think we've both taken a time out and now we're done with that," he replied sincerely.

"Qui pourrait être le cas but she's the one that's going to have to worry about getting her hair pulled out by the roots by half the women in the city," Kris pointed out. Sid smirked.

"They don't know my Phil."

* * *

"_Why doesn't she just go back to wherever she came from?" It wasn't the first time she'd heard catty comments whispered in what the local girls thought was just out of earshot but for some reason Phil didn't feel like laughing this one off. The three girls who were sitting just a couple of risers behind her behind home plate had been circling her like turkey vultures since she'd sat down with her popcorn. _

"_They are soooo dumb," Taylor moaned and blew another bubble, bigger than the last one while they waited for the outfielders to change. "Just ignore them. I do." Sid's younger sibling reclined on the uncomfortable wood bench seats, putting her elbows on the one directly behind them and smacked her gum. _

"_They bother you?" Phil asked, surprised. _

"_Yeah, 'cuz they're dumb." Taylor pulled a face and glanced back at the clutch of girls behind them. "They pretend to be nice to me all the time. They think I might introduce them to my brother. Fat chance," she added making another face that suggested she might secretly enjoy letting those girls believe there was a chance of that. _

"_Do you approve of any of the girls your brother dates?" Phil asked, hoping she sounded flippant and breezy. She didn't really want to grill Sid's sister for information. She suspected there was enough of that going on from girls just like the ones currently staring daggers into her back. Taylor snorted, shook her head and began to peel another piece of Hubba Bubba. _

"_My brother dates hockey, that's pretty much all he's allowed to do as far as my dad's concerned." Phil took a sip of her Coke and tried not to smile. She had pretty much figured out that Sidney was on a short leash and yet there always seemed to be a gaggle of giggling girls around. As if she could read her mind Taylor answered Phil's unspoken question; "those girls are just looking for a free ride."_

"_And you don't think I might be?" Phil asked as she watched Sidney enter the batter's box, knocking the dust off his cleats with the bat before pulling his batting helmet low down over his eyes. She thought the way he stuck that ass of his out as he assumed his batting stance should be illegal. Taylor turned to look right at her, raising a single eyebrow and pursing her lips. _

"_You're going to uni. He's going to Pittsburgh." As if there was no more to say Taylor turned back to watch her brother let the pitcher's first throw go by. _

"_Well I'm glad you don't think I'm like them," Phil said quietly. _

"_I didn't say I approved," Taylor mumbled, more like the sullen pre-teen Sidney was always complaining about. Just as she was about to ask why not the metallic ping of a baseball hitting an aluminum bat sounded loud in her ears and she turned her attention back to watch Sidney slowly begin to jog towards first. The ball sailed over the head of the right fielder and into the parking lot, denting the roof of a nearby car and setting off the car's alarm. "I just know my brother won't have the nerve to make a move before he has to leave so we won't have to worry about you for much longer," Taylor added, looking bored as she got up and dug in her cut off shorts for change. "I'm getting another drink, want one?" _

"_Uh…yeah sure," Phil mumble, stung by Sidney's younger sister's comments. She pulled a folded bill out of her own jeans and handed it over. _

_She watched Taylor skip down the stairs and duck into the corridor as she headed for the hamburger stall under the stands. Things were getting more hopeless by the moment as far Sidney was concerned. She'd been waiting all summer for him to make a move. Now the days were getting shorter and they were both running out of time. _

"_A pretty girl like you should never be alone." Phil glanced at the tall, muscular captain of the rugby team, swim captain and the only guy in town that could hold a candle to Sidney Crosby in the looks department. _

"_Aww Brody, does that work with all the girls?" she smirked at him. He grinned, his lips pulling back across a line of perfectly white teeth. _

"_Depends, does it work on you, baby?" Phil rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to home base where Sidney's teammates were meeting him with high fives and pats on the back. He was laughing and smiling in that adorkable way of his that made her stomach knot. _

"_No, not really," she replied truthfully. It probably would if Sidney would ever say it but she was beginning to think the Next Great One really didn't have any game at all. _

* * *

The house was dark and still when Sid dropped his keys in the bowl near the door. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and strained to hear any sounds of life but only silence reached his ears.

He climbed the stairs, his legs feeling leaden as they often did after a game. Maybe a little less because they'd won he thought as he reached the top stair and rounded the corner, heading for his bedroom. He and Kuni and Duper had played well, tight, aggressive. It had felt good. After the game he had almost wanted to tell Shero they didn't need the additions the general manager had added.

As he opened the bedroom door to find her curled up on his side of the bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin Sid paused, the air in his lungs turning to what felt like a heavy liquid as he tried to catch his breath. She was here. She hadn't left.

"Hey," she mumbled sleepily, her eyes still closed even as one pale hand snaked out from beneath the covers to reach towards him. Sid crossed the floor and laced his fingers with hers, bending to kiss the back of her hand. "Good game."

"It was okay," he agreed. He'd had two assists. Enough to pass Stamkos for a league leading forty one assists. She made a noise, half laugh, half snort as she yawned and then rubbed at her eyes with her other hand.

"Not happy unless you're scoring huh Crosby?" she teased with a smile as she finally opened her eyes to look up at him.

"Something like that," he agreed, toeing off his shoes as he sat on the edge of the bed and began to peel away the sheets. She neither argued nor fought as he unwrapped her like an overeager kid on Christmas morning. As he dragged the last sheet away his breath caught in his throat for a second time.

She was wearing a barely there sheer white baby doll with lace inserts and a bow nestled between her breasts.

"Just imagine what I might come up with if you actually put the biscuit in the basket Crosby," she purred, reaching out to pull him towards her by his tie.

"I'll try harder on Saturday," he promised, his gaze riveted to her cleavage and the way her breasts rose and fell as she breathed.

"You do that," she whispered, moving so she was kneeling in front of him, one hand still on his tie and now one on his belt. "Meantime, I hope you're not too tired."

"Nnnn…no, nope," he gulped as her hand slid down the front of his pants to cup the evidence that even if he was he wasn't _too_ tired.

"Good," she smiled and then pressed her lips over his.


End file.
